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READING WHITMAN IN MAY
Folder:
THE POETRY KEEPS GETTING DIRTIER
Reading Whitman in May
realizing an ultimate dream;
a grand and glorious dream—
the American Dream
Ah, what have they done?
What have we done?
allow the colors of the flag to fade
to dull hues
the red is almost pink
the white went yellow then gray
the blue is feeling the blues
Yes we allow the dreams of freedom
to be assassinated by the thought police
We recognize no threat
though it spits in our face
and openly taunts us
We laugh calmly as it spreads
Mutates and infiltrates our hopes
Our passage in free soil, free thought
free parks with chopped down trees
for the sake of timber
(though George and TJ grew hemp)
And free thought, ah that sacred concept—
the concept of free thought
that was, and still is,
a right, a guaranteed right
ripped to shreds by politics
Senators and Congresspersons
suck the freedoms right out of us
like a bee sucking pollen
from a rose bush
as poundings and murder escalate
in our urban decay
the White House yard is so pretty
and Beverly Hills is lovely
this time of year
All the pomp and circumstance
over privilege deteriorate
passions disintegrate
in the numbness of talk shows
news anchors and talk show hosts
with false teeth and false concern
and that ever so plastic smile
and fake looking toupee
our fading self esteem
stripped by bigots and high priests
I’m now listless
until I turn the page
and read the joyous print
a dream in worded vision
all the bigots burn crosses
that brand our souls
leaving indelible scars
It’s these ugly scars and sores
we see in the mirror each morning
we want to escape to our dreams
Reading Whitman in May
realizing an ultimate dream;
a grand and glorious dream—
the American Dream
5-13-93
