BALTIMORE BURNING

1.  

NOTE: "Baltimore Burning" is an encore presentation taken from my book of poems and short stories: Last Tango In Timbuktu. In light of recent events in America over the past few days, it seems an appropriate time to bring it back.

Unfortunately
meaningful social change
has always been accompanied
by great upheaval
and unrest

because

Unfortunately
polite entreaty
doesn't seem to effectively
 gain the attention of those
 entrenched in the
 arrogance of power

and

Unfortunately
from Bunker Hill
to Selma
to Kent State
to Watts
to Ferguson
to Baltimore
the pattern has always been the same

and

Unfortunately
when voices
(the voice of the people)
fall upon deaf ears
the decibel level must be increased
to a level that may cause sharp pain
in the eardrum
to a level that will make them turn
grimace
and glare at you
like an angry parent
and say at long last

ALRIGHT THEN...
WHAT THE FUCK IS IT YOU WANT?

ALL IS NOT LOST (IT'S JUST YOU)

What do you do when
you're not a real person
or an actor--
a kind of Mister In-Between
like Burl Ives
whom we never could
determine if he was a
bad fat actor
or a fat bad actor
but we love him
just the same
when snowflakes fly

Everyone should have his time
to rut upon the stage
like two cats
outside your window
keeping you awake at night
or the energetic cast of Oh Calcutta.

There's the real person
(which I told you I'm not) 
and the image one projects
but to act you've got to 
be someone else 
inside your head.

I was born for this role
born into this role
for as I see it now
there was no one else
sickly demented enough
to do it justice.

And it smells medicinal
this bitter pill
you're asking me to swallow
when there's no evidence
it will heal the world 
or even this pesky toenail fungus.

And now I'm beginning to realize
just what you will exact from me  
O Great Spirit
before I ride off into that sunset.

I'll try to take it like a man.

Like puffs of smoke
we are here and gone.

But I've a vision 
that one day
Cherokee Nation 
will return
proud and strong
and so will I...

so will I

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/

LAST GASP

A doe raises her head attentively
some of us stop what we're doing
she hears the sound
far better than we 

For most it just blends in
with the rest of the
noise pollution
but for those who do take note
it mimics a cry in the wind
beneath the brainless bemusement
of the Cornhole Championships 
one has been reduced to watching 
as one dutifully 
shelters in place

Some switch to Fox
or CNN to get the latest
from the All-Pandemic-
All-The-Time channels 

We are all in this together...
comes up over and over
on the screen 
but it's not the way 
they'd have you believe

more like nervous strangers 
trapped inside an elevator 

and the doe and her ilk
are coming out of hiding
to reclaim the 
deserted suburban streets
stolen from them

Hey children
what's that sound...

boot heels hit the ground
as we follow along
in lockstep
(at least as far as
 the end of the patio)

And that cry in the wind
some of us 
but far too few  
heard was nothing
less than the
last
labored 
gasp
of 
ideals
we once held
sacred and dear
dying

the Greeks called it eleutheria!

WAITING FOR THE DAWN

When Frank Sinatra comes on 

singing "New York New York"

I shut off the radio. They'd been

playing some pretty 

decent stuff up till then

but that's like an obscene joke now.

 Still thirteen hours 

to go before dawn

and there's no guarantee

I will sleep any of it away.

Reading poems by Bukowski

and Raymond Carver. 

I buy books off the internet

to read on my Kindle.  

I buy plenty of books that way.

(I know you never buy a damn

book, but all your libraries are closed!)

I'm looking for something there, 

but so often I find disappointment.

Like the time--

it was a long time ago now--

I was at this singles dance

and this woman I didn't know

looked at me like she could

see right through me and she says:

You're looking for something...

but you're not going to find it here.

What did she think I was looking for?

Happily Ever After?

I still don't know.

But there's twelve hours to go before dawn...

and I know 

I'm going 

to have to

fill it 

with something 

that passes 

for living.