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Jungle Land Blues
Bruce Springsteen song, "Jungle Land")
we observed a
definite hint of mocha
mixing with the aroma of books.
Sitting quietly, surrounded by
a mural of dead poets
in various poses of contemplation,
I couldn’t help but wonder
what were they thinking?
Living in a different era,
what would they say
and write about today’s terror?
Perhaps a few saw it coming,
these Christian fascists,
America’s Taliban
sweeping aside in bloody strokes,
people’s basic rights,
proclaiming an “end of history”;
fast approaching
flaming, sanctimonious
Armageddon times,
swirling in hideous hues
sung in off-key blues.
Perhaps, some of these poets,
like so many today
were caught off guard
limiting their poems
to “pretty things”,
faith in god,
love poems
or unique forms
with content that said nothing
but filled with petty angst
amidst gathering storms
aimed at every shore.
Very much like the kind I have written lately.
But it reminds me of those
Springsteen lines:
“and the poets down here
don’t write nothing at all
they just stand back
and let it all be….
Down in jungle land.”
And yet ironically
the future of humanity
is often fought out
in battles of verse,
or the way shadow
and light
dance majestically
and is reflected in acrylics
splashed chaotically on canvas;
or in the scientific
evaluation of the human story
told in the DNA trail
following curious adventurers
out of Africa,
as told in irrefutable evolution!
~~~
“And the poets down here
don’t….”
There has never been
a more important time
in the history of human kind
the need to write
dance
sing
laugh
finger paint
in fractal hues
creating a human revolution
seen ever more clearly
in the re-envisioned communism
found along the newly charted
Avakian Trail.
Wow Scope
Not a lot of poets can accomplish a BA and MA in a poem, you came close - love the color pallet, brown to red, with a bit of sunshine thrown in - nice evening read, this - LOL & Hugzzz...Lady A