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March 30, 2017

poetry

Dirge

I am in mourning. I am regularly in tears. I mourn the death of freedom That we thought we had for years. I mourn the death of patriotism In an America once so great. It has been replaced with bigotry, Overtly replaced by hate. I mourn the death of my country That I used to

Wrong!

  You people who say “There aren’t any gays In my race or church!” You’re so wrong, I say. You’re so wrong It will be hard to get back To right, you know, Where you went off track. You people who say There are no gays In our holy country You’re wrong too, I say.

Noble Tradition

It’s New Year’s Eve! Let’s get knee-walking plastered. Don’t eat anything today, It gets to your bloodstream faster. It’s Saint Patty’s Day! Let’s get shitfaced on green beer. I’m Irish, so I am entitled, you see And I won’t be again until next year. It’s my birthday! Let’s get plowed out of our minds. Let’s

Dead Soldiers

  Dead soldiers can’t march. They can’t hear your lies. They can’t hear their buddies Or their agonizing cries. The politicians lie so smoothly Some dreams are so lifelike And the lies are said so truthfully That some life seems dreamlike. Dead soldiers are not the ones, The ones out looking for war. They, above

American Dream

 He worked, all bent And sweat of brow. It’s how his life went I remember it now. Told consistently Since his early childhood “Hard work earns rewards.” He believed as a child would. He believed in the dream And worked hard most days Saving whatever he could Economizing in many ways. There were no vacations

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