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Generational Ideals

Cannon

My grandfather was a share-cropper
Working someone else’s land
My father and uncles worked in industry
Making machines run for corporations
My brothers are tradesmen
Creating things of wood and stone and metal and plastic
I was and am a servant of the state
A manager of programs and a leader of troops
Making plans and enforcing policies that are not my own
I’m also an academic
Writing papers to influence others
Or to teach them the things I know
But I can not shake the feeling that
Despite better compensation
Each of the generations
Have moved farther from truth
For thought it may not carry much honor
In this modern age we live in
There is something honest and basic
That can only be found
Through working in the soil.

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The Seal and the Motto

The Seal and the Motto

The Great Seal
E Pluribus Unum
Out of many, one

The National Motto
In God We Trust
In Deo Speramus Nobis

It is a new age
With fewer than half of Americans
Participating in organized religion

It is a new age
When polarity in our politics
Is the highest since our Civil War

If we only write the motto
On our money, and not our hearts
We easily become bankrupt

If we only seek unity
Without compromise
The only thing sealed is our fate

We live in an age
That revels in self
At the cost of unity

We live in an age
That revels in wealth
At the cost of faith

Poverty of Spirit and
Self-centered divisiveness
Are only symptoms of what plagues us

The lights are slowly dimming
From our city on a hill
And the eyes of the world are upon us

While a single candle glows faintly
Millions flickering together rival the sun
E Pluribus Unum

In times of troubles
Prepare against the worst by living for the best
In God we trust

In the reign of those who divide us
Focus on those that join us
Trust the greater good to unify us in spite of ourselves

In God We Trust
Out of the many, one

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A Pale Horse

Dystopia

They dance with the idea
it consumes them wholly
wrought from ancient fear
of what they thought was holy

The rich move them like pawns
and laugh at their red deeds
then a fearsome day soon dawns
and their anger makes us bleed

Lies and hunger and a sense
of loss and falling down
the talking heads talk nonsense
about their stolen crown

They follow blindly and with glee
they chant and curse and sing
they smash and kill and plea
for praise from a would-be king

The center holds for one last stand
the guardians beat back the horde
they will return as they had planned
to commit what some abhorred

Some bolder hand will hold their reins
the broken veil falls from our face
the death’s head move for sordid gains
a triumph of a darker grace

So thus our city on a hill
shining for those with lifted eyes
crumbles into rubble still
just a shambles in disguise

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Moral Combat

Gate to Seoul

Watching it all play out
On national television,
All that I could think
Was that we really could do better
In the choosing of our champions
And the resolution of the combat.

In the back of my mind
I thought of Alice, Texas
In the fall of 1948
And the mysterious miracle of Ballot Box 13.
Yet there is quite a difference
Between knowing a bit of history
And actually making accusations
From the Whitehouse bully pulpit.

On this one thing I am certain,
That no matter who wins this battle
The process has weakened their position
And the standing of this nation.
There will be no mandate for action —
Only more cries from the sidelines
That a duly elected person
Cannot possibly be “my president”.

The process tears at our fabric
Reopens the old wounds
In our national psyche
Refusing to allow them to heal.
We should be saddened that the runup
To the 2024 election
Starts in earnest today.

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Blessings, Damnations, and Woes

Blessed are the protesters
In peaceful assembly
Demanding justice and equality
For yours is The Dream made real
Mahatmas one and all
Standing before Nirvana
On the Road to Shambhala
Yet You lack one thing to enter
You must shed your violent alter-self
You can not harbor violent souls
And cross the gates to the peaceful happy land
Though the price of peace may be your life
Unyielding while bearing your cross
As all the martyrs that came before you

Blessed are the peace officers
When they live up to the term
Protecting and serving the people
For yours is the Badge of Honor
When you protect the people
Nurturing them under your shield
Of peace, and prosperity, and equality before the law
Yet one thing you lack to stand before The Judge
You must purge yourself of the wolves
Hiding themselves in your ranks
You must cast aside their violence
Before it destroys your flock
Or they drive you into the wilderness

Damned are the troublemakers
Hurling insults and bricks
Setting fires and looting
Your anarchism nullifies the voice of the people
You doom the saints that are actually bringing change
To another round of violence
Your bile drowns the discussion
And poisons the fields before they ripen
Your harvest is nothing but ashes
Repent before you are consumed
Broken shards of glass and flames
Become your funeral pyre

Damned are the cowardly bullies
Who instigate events
Demanding people respect their authority
And choking out innocent life
Simply because they can
Using guardian positions to prey upon innocents
Your black-hearted hypocrisy dooms you to failure
As the people rebel against your evil empire
Your anger and cowardice besmirches your profession
Repent or suffer the fate of the wolf and rabid dog
That must be put down
In order to save the flock

Woe to those in authority
Who abuse their power
Making themselves and their friends rich
On the backs of the people
Using crony capitalism and politics
To keep the people divided and
Inflamed with daily tragedies
To distract the people from the fact
That you are robbing them of their future
By poisoning their present
You do whatever is necessary
To hold on to your positions
And enjoy the succulent feast
While the people languish in misery
Repent and turn from evil
Before the greed in your calloused heart
Fans the flames of street protest
Into your Thermidor

Woe to the Cassandra prophet poet
Who sees the present in the past
Augers the future through discernment
And knows that the voice crying out from the wilderness
Is seldom heard and understood
Because the heart of the people
Is based in primordial violence
And even in an advanced state
Relies upon tribal fealty
Like troops of monkeys
Fighting over the best fruit trees
To clearly see the pathway forward
Knowing it won’t be taken
Is perhaps the worst punishment of all.