Fake News

AmericaFlag“Fake News”

The educated voter hears both sides.
Unfortunate, our citizen can’t split
his time or work to find where Truth resides;
where Nervous Nancy’s lying Left might sit.

The Left has left our borders open wide
yet still need magic pill to beat our Trump.
Let Tyranny’s Majority decide
and give beloved nation final slump?

Our Citizens, as listeners, less intent
to hear the newsy pieces of their ‘act’.
Our babies must come first and then the rent
and so we miss a part of all their ‘fact’.

Ah, longing for the good old days of news
when all we had was simple radio.
Let Orson Welles warn, cause a panic, too
who shows us evil winds about to blow!

The proof, they say, found in the final taste.
Lies found in politics, a dangerous place!

The View From My Back Door

Snow
Photo by Jacqueline Casey

The glow of silver trees against blue sky
against a deeper royal blue ally
as snow now blankets each and every limb
with loving care, their mother covers them.

The trees so loved by nature’s wintry blast
it seems some artist covers to contrast.
Her richest blue encircles icy trim
with loving care, their mother covers them!

To some, a dark and deadly, frozen fear;
to others, it’s a message that they hear:
Such honor sent to each not as some whim.
With loving care, their mother covers them.

The trees bejeweled still with breathless hue;
their branches blaze against an endless blue.
They bow in adoration for her hymn;
with loving care, their mother covers them.

Form: Kyrielle: AA;BB;CC;bB;DD;bB;EE;bB
(from my kitchen door in Murphy, NC)

Martin’s Dream

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” Martin Luther King, Jr.

Martin’s Dream

I fall into the blackest hole in space
my soul now travels through the darkest scene;
a foreign place where there’s no time or grace.
I move through tunnels of relentless scream.

A message from my minister of flight:
“From swirling depths you’re not allowed escape.
And you will fall forever out of sight.
It’s written here for relevance of hate:

You broke the rules! Your punishment will end
when darkness turns to morning’s crashing fuss;
when love’s the rule regardless of the win
and Rosa sits beside you on the bus.”

The clatter of my clock begins to sing
as Monday calls all sinners to its ring.

 

 

 

We are All Immigrants

We all are immigrants from Africa.AmericaFlag

Your skin is white while mine has darker tone.

Yet, heart to heart, we’re all America

and with that hero’s pride, our flag is flown.

We all are immigrants from Africa

and celebrate a wondrous mix that glows

from coast to coast in our America.

Red, white and blue are colors that we know.

We are a nation honed with Freedom’s hand

for every soul that lands upon our shore.

Come, legally,  and there will be no ban:

the rule of law still reigns upon our land.

All citizens who care cause us to win.

A love of freedom binds us all as kin.

 

 

“Pandora’s Box”

Pandora’s box will wait upon death’s call
that comes from Charlotte’s violence.  All ears
hear rising tumult over statue, tall.
And there rides Robert Lee. His horse he steers.
Old statesman, warrior of Civil War;
his sword , no longer at the charge or flies.
Yet fought he for the South;  felt duty for;
now moderns see as wrong and strong they cry.

A strange, new hatred clashes in our day:
Old Robert’s history must die, some say.

Pandora’s box of symbols open snakes.

(Form: “821” Rules: Must contain 3 stanzas. lst=8 lines; 2nd=2 lines; 3rd=1 line summation.)

 

 

“Men in Orange Jumpsuits”

 

She wanted the attention and the wealth.
Bold disrespect she shows Memorial Day
for Christians dressed in orange to their death;
be-headings all the rage is Griffin’s way.

I weep for Man whose lost all sense of shame
I shudder for her stupid, bloody hands
I feel the filth just mentioning her name
A comedy of sorts lost to her fans.

Catastrophe to those who clap and grin.
There will be sorrow for the rest of us.
A lost humanity attuned to sin,
we’ll view our part , if any, with disgust.

The heart has withered once the head is lost
and so Man’s spirit where there is no trust.

The Manchester Massacre

frosty rose

We’ll freeze;

obliterate his hatred

with a keg of sharper, longer nails?

Save the rose, instead,  before she falls.

Freeze that place where he inbreeds.

Encapsulate his cousins, conjugal.

This fruit fly seeks the closest mate to seed.

Degenerate, cares not where useless fate

is spread. But history has told before

there’s no Valhalla for his frozen soul.

His seed will fail. His head consumed with hate.

“Pause the Parsing”

“Pause the Parsing”

President’s dismay

at White House briefing parsing

gives me ample pause.