if it bleeds it leads
is the lead-in story
for Alternet, an alternate
syndication to a means of
skillful assessment with and
without
disambiguation;
the sense of
proportion is wasted not
on the likes of Carlin being
channeled by Michael Moore
chanting into the audience
like a Nelson & MacDonald
Indian love call,
there are no mounted police
that ride into the sunset in NYC,
they have
batons and kick wall street
occupiers in the guts, arrest
them for being American and
congregating near the new and improved,
holier and richer-than-thou House of Worship,
there is an
arrested
development of the love hormone, oxytocin,
I think,
perhaps the milk of human kindness has soured;
all those schemes will bring America down
until the final Halleluyah is wrested
like honey on the tongue of a rogue elephant,
or a bull with golden horns.
A lamp light shines In Freedom Square. A vigil has been
kept by Lady Liberty, she is not blind and she is singing
our song.
The Metta rings through all the earth's ages like growing pains.
Comments
Wow.
This is a tongue twister and a depressing rant. I know things suck, but they always have. Although nothing you said is untrue, I hope you also have a positive perspective as well.
Nevertheless, a mean and potent write.
Phew.
wesley
As we found in the deep analysis workshop
or more correctly were reminded of, poetry is intensely subjective and becomes a different entity, out of control, once given to the reader.
I love this. It speaks to me in many ways at different levels of cognition and poetry. Sometimes I wonder if you could be a tad more selective in what you post, no-one can write good poems every day, but this is well worth being here.