AN AMERICAN PASTORAL

Poetry Potluck--With Real Toads--d'Verse Poets Pub


Ladies and gentlemen
welcome aboard the SOUL TRAIN 
chuggin 'cross America
and movin on down the line
tha's right...tha's right...


My name is Thaddeus K. Trumbo
and I am your conductor...


We will glide through the beautiful countryside
with stopovers at significant locales
that comprise the tapestry of this great land...


chugga chugga chugga
chugga chugga chugga


First stop: RIPOFF CITY
where all the street signs
are in fine print
and everyday is the last day
of our gigantic warehouse sale
BUY ANY TWIN SIZE MATTRESS
AND PAY ONLY THE QUEEN SIZE PRICE
HURRY...THIS SALE MAY ONLY BE HELD OVER
FOR ONE MORE YEAR!


chugga chugga chugga
chugga chugga chugga




Next stop: WASTED TOWN


Where everyone gathers 
to slurp n burp
down at the ol' Scarf n Barf
(many of them have just come
from Ripoff City to drown their
sorrows)
Wasted Town...
where the motto is: 
Same time
same place
gettin' shitfaced!


chugga chugga chugga


And just down the tracks apiece, ladies and gentlemen, is Wasted Town's sister city: VOMITVILLE...
the capital of clueless teendom
where all the guys 
are flashing hand signs
and all the girls are flashing their boobs
and the beer is cold
direct from our cooler
to the porcelain god 
you will worship at the end of the hall




Ah, what a lovely day to glide
through the countryside
where peace 
and tranquility reside


HEY--OVER THERE...hold it down...you cruisin' for a bruisin' boy...I'll do a RUMSHPRINGA right on yo head...
tha's right...tha's right!


chugga chugga chugga


Next stop:TELLYVILLE


where all the women are patronized
by male script writers 
so they are tough 
and go 'round  kicking
all the men's asses on every cop show
sliding around the corner
squeezing the livin' crap outta that gun
with both hands
and yelling FREEZE!


Meanwhile, down at the local TASTY  Freez
some are still as sweet as before


chugga chugga


Next stop: PROMISE LAND


Not to be confused with the Promised  Land
no no
Here, all the politicians
from mayor on down to dog catcher
keep promising that pie in the sky
just to get reelected
but year after year
the only thing they deliver is
that same old poop soup


YOU HEAR ME OVER THERE???
I'll beat you like a DRUM, boy...
not a snare...a KETTLE!
tha's right...tha's right...


chugga chugga
chugga chugga


NEXT stop:  the village of PC  HEIGHTS


where you WILL apologize
for speakin' your mind
to anyone who has
an axe to grind
and that sensitivity training
for postal workers
is working out fine
but sometimes
you can still detect them seething
behind that counter


chugga chugga chugga
wooowoooo...


Ah...now ladies and gentlemen
we are pulling into WEST ATLANTIS
where the residents, in their thirst
for instant gratification,
have tried to live a lifestyle
well above their means--
and the houses can no longer be seen
because they are all underwater


chugga chugga


Next stop: IMPERIAL VALLEY
Where the powers that be
feel duty bound to meddle
in the affairs of any and all
if it serves their interests
like an  HOA drunk on power
they will occupy your house
and push you around
and any resources you have
might be converted to their own usage
and still they haven't a clue
as to why everybody hates them


chugga chugga 


And now, folks,  a special treat, as we are entering the village of  NOSTALGIA GARDENS
Where every ten years some event from the past
is commemorated with media hype and tributes
even though it no longer has any bearing WHATSOEVER on the present
and even though nobody wants to think about it anymore
we will drag it out again
JUST because it's been ten years
and that's a neat number
(as we speak they are preparing tributes
for the tenth anniversary of Milton Berle biting the big one)


Ah, we SO like to look back
here in the good ol' USA--
as looking ahead is getting
scarier by the minute.


.chugga chugga chugga




Last stop, ladies and germs: DOG TOWN


All passenger must disem...BARK
heh heh


Here in Dogtown,  all the residents have their noses in the air
(they have to) 'cause nobody cleans up after their pets
as the motto is: we wouldn't  stoop that far.
Watch your step folks...watch your step...
those ain't no Jimmy Dean sausages fryin' on the sidewalk...
no no
seems we always steppin' in somethin' STINKY
here in the good ole USA...


Now, I wanna thank you folks
for being such a good-


ALRIGHT--tha's it!  I'm comin' over there to open up
a big can of WHUP ASS on you boy!
Git offa my train...
An' watch yo step...
tha's right...tha's right...

ASSUMING THE POSTURE (A Presidents Day reflection)

The National Cemetary at Andersonville, Georgia. Hundreds of identical white grave markers standing at attention, lined up in perfect formation. Regiment of ghost soldiers ready to march into battle. Not even room for a full name: Newel, Strups, Arnold--anonymous as a grey wave charging the hill...

Fascinating, these tintypes of the Civil War. One thing I can say is that these folks were experts in the lost art of posturing--every photo is choreographed like a stage production. Thirty men--doctors and surgeons--in and around the hospital where they work...and every one of 'em striking a stance or a profile, even the guys inside looking out the windows!

Inside the trenches before Petersburg, Virginia...Union soldiers waiting to meet their fate--and on the rise above them their commanders gazing into the distance, but unmistakably POSED, as if the eye of the camera supersedes all concerns.

General Robert E. Lee...dandified, a dapper looking fellow in bow tie, vest, and waistcoat. Your slacks are the perfect length and your shoes so shiny they reflect the sunlight. You sent your infantry charging federal artillery emplacements on Malvern Hill and they were slaughtered. You took a long time dressing...they spent a short time dying.

General Ulysses S. Grant...dressed to the nines like your Confederate counterpart--posing like a movie star at Cold Harbor, where your blundering offensive against entrenched rebel forces caused seven thousand Union casualties in a span of twenty minutes.

Dead confederate soldier in the trenches--April 3rd, 1865, Petersburg, Virginia. You look no more than 14 for God's sake. Lying on your back, head with its shock of blonde hair tilted at an angle--I swear there's a hint of a smile on your lips, as at the moment of sexual release, when one also gives his full measure...

President Lincoln and his generals at Antietam...you tower above your men, Abe, but then you're the only one with a stove pipe hat--even in your day, you must have been a laughing stock of fashion--perhaps you were trying to draw attention away from your ears, huge as grapefruits.

Mary Todd Lincoln, the First Lady...all decked out in your balloon skirt, a crown of flowers in your hair--dressed more like a queen--but plain looking at best. He broke off his engagement to you once, and I think he'd have rather had a hole in the head than marry you...an admonition for the rest of us to be careful what we wish for.

John Wilkes Booth--hair so curly as to be unmanageable; hand resting inside your jacket--a typical affectation of the times--in your case, however, we're not sure just what you might be reaching for.

Alexandria, Virginia...the sign on the three story building says: PRICE, BIRCH, & CO.--DEALERS IN SLAVES. Here's where I put myself into the picture. I walk up to the two soldiers sitting on the bench near the door and say, "Howdy boys...you can probably guess I'm not from around here, but I just came by to say that I think...that if you could WIN, perhaps it would save us from a place called VIETNAM--and if you could win, maybe it could save us from a place called IRAQ, and a place called AFGHANISTAN. But I gotta tell ya this idea of human beings as chattel is reprehensible, and it's going to stain you and your descendants for more than a century to come. And I wonder why we always have to KICK SOMEBODY'S ASS--or they have to kick ours--before any of us can comprehend the error of our ways!" (This is where I magically disappear, before they can spatter me with tobacco juice.)

Unfortunate, because I wanted to tell them that one day, this reunified nation would become the most potent force for good...or evil...in the world.At times POSING as one, while essentially becoming the other.

And I wanted to tell them that if THEY could win, perhaps they could save us from ourselves.