Category: Poetry

A Tribute To Trump…

Often the innocence of youth points to truth that many with years of jaded experience willfully turn their heads to.

A man and a woman were running a race.
The man dressed in red with a very orange face,
And the woman dressed in blue with a pantsuit and a briefcase.
The race was much longer than a dash, mile or marathon,
And to many Americans it felt like it went on and on.
This was a race of old and new ideas and one thought,
And so the race started with the sound of a gunshot.
The woman dressed in blue was off to a great start,
She was gaining support and was eager to do her part.
However the man in the red was racist and sexist I’m sure you would agree,
He even said he wanted to grab a woman by her…
As the competitors turned the corner you got a glimpse of the fans,
And you could hear in the distance a chant about a man with small hands.
He claimed his hands and feet were quite big,
All while having a bright orange spray tan and a big yellow wig.
About halfway through the race the man was falling behind,
And the supporters of the woman were happy to have saved mankind.
As the competitors were nearing the finish line,
The people in blue were already celebrating and drinking their wine.
The woman approached the finish with a big, wide grin,
But then something happened that seemed to be the work of Vladimir Putin.
The woman fell down and lost her lead,
The win began to feel a lot less guaranteed.
The man hurdled over her body and crossed the finish,
And we all knew our Nation’s reputation would certainly diminish.
The man had somehow done it, he actually won,
The supporters in blue sat in shock and ceased all of their fun.
The man was apparently going to Make America Great Again with his campaign,
And the woman was depressed and had to put away her celebratory champagne
The results of this race tore apart our land,
As millions of Muslims were immediately banned.
This man can do absolutely no good,
Except run his mouth and claim he was just misunderstood.
The man has stated “we need global warming” for all to hear,
Which has made me quite certain that the end is near.
He has called women ugly and fat,
Which has left me wondering how he could have won the race and done all that.
After insulting and making fun of men and women nationwide,
I’ve become mortified, horrified, and have lost my American pride.
Every time he talks or makes a speech,
All I can say is impeach, impeach, impeach.

14-year-old Owen Pallenberg…  Keep up the good work

We Rulers Of The Earth

Homo Sapiens we call ourselves, rulers of this Earth,
Intelligent and civilized, but what is all this worth?

We’re working hard to conquer space—we landed on our Moon.
We better solve our problems here, or soon we will face doom.

New industries and factories constructed every day,
And poisoning the air we breathe—is this the price to pay?

Energy sources are shrinking now—what happens when there’s none?
Will Man of Earth ever learn to work with Nature as one?

Some in this world are starving still while others hoard their gold.
Intelligent and civilized; at least, that’s what we’re told.

We cure disease with drugs that may cause sickness as result—
How many dearly paid for this ‘experimental cult’?

We have become a plastic world where everything is fake,
From the foods we eat to how we look—when will we awake?.

We’re civilized we tell ourselves, but fight our fellow man,
If only we could solve world stresses through a better plan.

With government corruption and morality sinking low…
The price of progress we may say—is this the way to grow?

We have upset Earth’s balanced ways, destroying Nature’s scheme—
We’re intelligent and civilized—is it all a dream?

Will we ever walk on Nature’s path, take her by the hand,
Restore the beauty meant to be on Earth, our dying land?

Homo Sapiens we call ourselves, rulers of this Earth,
Intelligent and civilized, but what is all this worth?

Sandra M. Haight

The Secrecy and Hypocrisy of Republicans…

HOT AIR – Do understand, this isn’t a matter of Mitch McConnell freezing out his old nemesis on what’s going on in the Senate. Cruz has been working with McConnell and others for months on drafting a plan. He’s organized numerous meetings of a Republican “working group” with participants from across the GOP’s ideological spectrum and has repeatedly proclaimed his willingness to compromise to get something done. It’s all part of a political makeover. Having alienated so many colleagues before the 2016 presidential primaries with his anti-establishment no-compromise approach, Cruz is angling to rebuild relationships before his next run in 2024. He was derided last year as a grandstander whose biggest “achievement” was ringleading the futile 2013 shutdown to block the implementation of ObamaCare. Now he’s aiming to be known as the man who midwifed an unlikely health-care meeting of the minds between conservatives like him, Rand Paul, and Mike Lee and the Susan Collinses and Lisa Murkowskis in the caucus. The principled obstructionism of Cruz 1.0 was swept away last spring by Trump along with so many other tea-party conceits. Cruz 2.0 will be more of a can-do politician willing to make the best deals, deals so great you won’t believe it. If he pulls it off, he’ll have quite a feather in his cap for his Senate reelection campaign next year.

Unless, of course, the country roundly hates the final bill that lands on Trump’s desk. But what are the odds of that?

Anyway. The point is that Cruz is a critical player in getting something through the Senate — yet here he is last night, with McConnell promising a draft bill tomorrow, telling Mark Levin that he has no idea what’s in the bill yet. Essentially he and every other Republican in the “working group” haven’t been working on an actual bill; what they’ve been working on are demands which they’ve then submitted to McConnell and the leadership team to accommodate in the form of a legislative product. If McConnell sticks to his schedule of holding a vote next Thursday, Cruz and allies like Mike Lee will have one short week to read the bill, demand changes, spend a few hours debating it on the floor, and then face a gut-check on whether to pass the revised version, assuming that there are revisions. It’s embarrassingly opaque procedural sleight of hand…

Indeed! We have a vivid recollection of then Speaker Pelosi saying that they had to pass the ACA for people to know what’s was in the bill. And now, seven years later, after no debate, no specifics, no awareness by senators, and keeping the public in the dark.  the republicans are doing precisely what they criticized democrats for. To which we say, HYPOCRITES!

The Uncertain Solution

We cannot seem to understand
that one perceives personally with limited scope,
a minuscule allotment, a slippery vision of time.
We believe to hold witness to a great single minded river,
this metaphor is bought wholly
and sold solely to sweeten our short life-
As one word often leads to the next,
a parent sires child
thinking this is the most powerful measurement of truth
we use to falsely foolproof our assurances
and assuage any feeling of being a victim,
eaten by time.
It is a shared dream of the dead man’s final words-
they carry weight, meaning and purpose.
Needing to be painfully comprehended and carried self evident.
A literary reflection of our need for death to matter,
to have matter and be of substance is a view of ourselves linearly,
as a line drawn between birth to death
then- maybe
a cathartic eternity.

Ben Lingemann

lady liberty

for liberty, your day filled in splendor,
july fourth, new york harbor, nineteen eighty-six,
midnight sky, fireworks splashing,
heaven exploding
into radiant bouquets,
wall street a backdrop of centennial adulation,
computerized capital angling cameras
celebrating the international symbol of freedom
stretched across micro-chips,
awacs surveillance,
wall-to-wall people, sailing ships,
gliding armies ferried
in pursuit of happiness, constitution adoration,
packaged television channels for liberty,
immigrant illusions
celebrated in the name of democratic principles,
god bless america, land of the star
spangled banner
that we love,

but the symbol suffered
one hundred years of decay
climbing up to the spined crown,
the fractured torch hand,
the ruptured intestines,
palms blistered and calloused,
feet embroidered in rust,
centennial decay,
the lady’s eyes,
cataract filled, exposed
to sun and snow, a salty wind,
discolored verses staining her robe,

she needed re-molding, re-designing,
the decomposed body
now melted down for souvenirs,
lungs and limbs jailed
in scaffolding of ugly cubicles
incarcerating the body
as she prepared to receive
her twentieth-century transplant
paid for by pitching pennies,
hometown chicken barbecues,
marathons on america’s main streets.
she heard the speeches:
the president’s
the french and american partners,
the nation believed in her, rooted for the queen,
and lady liberty decided to reflect
on lincoln’s emancipatory resoluteness
on washington’s patriotism,
on jefferson’s lucidity,
on william jennings bryan’s socialism,
on woodrow wilson’s league of nations,
on roosevelt’s new deal,
on kennedy’s ecumenical postures,
and on martin luther king’s non-violence.

lady liberty decided to reflect
on lillian wald’s settlements,
on helen keller’s sixth sense,
on susan b. anthony’s suffrage movement,
on mother cabrini’s giving soul,
on harriet tubman’s stubborn pursuit of freedom.

just before she was touched,
just before she was dismantled,
lady liberty spoke,
she spoke for the principles,
for the preamble,
for the bill of rights,
and thirty-nine peaceful
presidential transitions,
and, just before she was touched,
lady liberty wanted to convey
her own resolutions,
her own bi-centennial goals,
so that in twenty eighty-six,
she would be smiling and she would be proud.
and then, just before she was touched,
and then, while she was being re-constructed,
and then, while she was being celebrated,
she spoke.

if you touch me, touch ALL of my people
who need attention and societal repair,
give the tired and the poor
the same attention, AMERICA,
touch us ALL with liberty,
touch us ALL with liberty.

hunger abounds, our soil is plentiful,
our technology advanced enough
to feed the world,
to feed humanity’s hunger . . .
but let’s celebrate not our wealth,
not our sophisticated defense,
not our scientific advancements,
not our intellectual adventures.
let us concentrate on our weaknesses,
on our societal needs,
for we will never be free
if indeed freedom is subjugated
to trampling upon people’s needs.

this is a warning,
my beloved america.

so touch me,
and in touching me
touch all our people.
do not single me out,
touch all our people,
touch all our people,
all our people
      our people
             people.

and then i shall truly enjoy
my day, filled in splendor,
july fourth, new york harbor,
nineteen eighty-six, midnight sky,
fireworks splashing,
heaven exploding
into radiant bouquets,
celebrating in the name of equality,
in the pursuit of happiness,
god bless america,
land of star
spangled banner
that we love.

Tato Laviera,  May 9, 1950 – November 1, 2013