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.

Heightened and Enlightened

Out There, In the Real World

Check the news like it’s a Muslim prayer schedule, only to find panic, hopes, frustration. Yet you’re no nearer the headlines tomorrow that read:
Truth Beyond Politics
“This is an historic day.”
Headlines roar through printers, quicker, for faster news, not better. Say:
Life Beyond What We Print
Yet seasons are forgotten unless it’s baseball, football, or political and Christmas is become elections that begin earlier each year,
    grow brighter each year,
    increase grander each year,
    and people cheer:
Red! White! Blue!
And the papers roll, black ink over pages, and all any of it reads:
These Are Untruths
Hands passing secrets under fine table tops hoist in their other hands cables, then, Hark! The herald papers roll:
Stocks Fall, Money Meaningless!
And buses disappear around vine-covered high-rises, sidewalks crack by seedlings, newspapers compost for tree roots, and words claim:
[Your Line Here]
but the article never draws a conclusion,
so everyone waits to see how their favorite cartoon considers the idea.

Heightened and Enlightened

“This is a huh-storic day.”

Check the news like it’s a Muslim prayer schedule only to find panic, fear, frustration, yet you’re no nearer the headlines tomorrow that read:

None of This Matters – Truth Beyond Governments

Events are recorded. The whole is ignored.

Headlines roar through rollers spinning pages quicker to create demand for faster news, not better, saying:

Life Beyond What We Print

Weathermen watch numbers. Meanwhile, winds bring cold air south, but the seeds she carries are said:

CHANGE.

Seasons are forgotten unless it’s baseball, football, or political and Christmas is become elections that begin earlier each year, grow brighter each year, increase grander each year and people cheer:

Red! White! Blue!

And the papers keep rolling black ink over tree pulp pages and people pick up the one that fits their views, like doctrine, and all any of it reads:

These Are Untruths

Hands pass secrets under fine table tops hoisting brandy and cigars and then, Hark! The herald papers roll:

Stocks Fall, Money Meaningless

And buses disappear around crumbling high-rises, sidewalks crack by mighty, rumbling seedlings, newspapers compost for tree roots. Finally, it is agreed.