Sunday, May 22, 2011

Poem - "Headlines"

Headlines

Two              Towers of Babel             Topple.
The battles            for Babylon               wage
and,                                              standing by,
                                             Sacrificial Lamb.
'Sigh' for that big bang,
           charged       by a storm      of   trouble.
There  is a  martyr  atop  some   hill,       who
   once was     a baby   floating   downstream.
                                   Blah, blah, blah, then,
"Let's           to        the   chess            match!"
                                                He later leads
a   million   people   to        the Guggenheim.

Hands                      get                     washed
in        mounds           of            fossils;
the   mantel   is   swept   by   Texas candles.
The corpse,  refurbished
                with    an  empty   milk   jug.
Attempts are made to reap the spoils of a 
                                                     hurricane.
They succeed.
                             Refugees sit in traffic
on the way                     to evacuation routes,
    three    days        after the storm.

  Chariots    throwing     bows   and   arrows,
drunk   soldiers     throwing        elbows.
                  Angry fans throw tomatoes
and poor  sports   play cheap.     Meanwhile,
ice cream is  savored on the curb
                                         outside the prison,
where Springtime's sparrows
                                                galavant.
The    day's    parades                 are watched
       at 9 o'clock.                 Ticker-tape fails -
cars dented
                                               "Keep an eye
on the mountains and valleys."
                                          "Get out of the red
and stay in the black."
          "We have already been on the bad side.
We don't want to go back."

Heads shaved before church - beards in choir

Behind screen doors, Secrets shared with Secrets

Money offered to 'thimble'

Pitas split, passed

Rugs lay down facing God - Prayers flung

Prophets fast together



Editorials

Lay down your rug,
face God.
Now kneel.
All the ancient profits
hold hands in the shadows.
Thrown dirt 
can get in your eyes,
and we all know about specks and splinters.
Smile like a Mormon. Dance like a Hindu.
Play like a Buddhist.                 
                                                    Love.

No comments:

Post a Comment