HEY NINETEEN

You're plastering those numbers
up on the screen again--
every night it's the same goddamn
thing, over and over--
be afraid...be very afraid....

You think you've seized upon 
the only thing that matters
or should matter
at this moment in time
because it's about
survival. And yet man 
does not live by survival alone. 
Cave man, maybe.
But not modern 
technologically advanced
and culturally refined man.

We've gone so far past 
the instinct to merely survive.
We've built a world out of 
inspired visions of what's possible
and learned that it's anything
and everything we can imagine!

And I can assure you 
that on a personal
level it's about quality.
Not quantity.

It's not good enough
to merely survive anymore.
And all your white--knuckled
fear mongering-- 
your constant 
sound the alarm
sound the alarm
like somebody's car being broken
into down in the alley
late at night...

Shut that goddamn thing off already!

We get it.

Because I can assure you
that on a personal level--
and I  know I speak not
only for myself--there have 
to be millions of a like mind
thinking this very same thing
right now...
that if this is the way
it's going to be
from this day forward...
if this is the world we're bequeathing
to our children
and grandchildren
then who needs it?

Who fucking needs it? 
Really.


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!