The future arrived today
As a boxcar of burning books.
On a siding near a warehouse
Marked “Tomorrow”.
Poetry is Good for America
The future arrived today
As a boxcar of burning books.
On a siding near a warehouse
Marked “Tomorrow”.
I drank your cup of coffee
You’re gone, and I must stay.
I also ate your breakfast
Your wine I’ve put away.
Your books and clothes
Are in the dumpster.
Your dog has run away.
I’ve thrown out all your memories
You’re gone and I must stay.
These are broken words
On a broken page.
By a broken man
With a broken rage.
This is my song
And this is my final season.
My faith has failed me
And so has reason.
A half-life ago
I was radiant with desire.
I believed that numbers
And science held my future.
This is my song
And this is my final season.
Science has failed me
And so has reason.
Heart of a farm boy
Strength of a bull
Mind of an academic
Nobody’s fool
Body of a soldier
Aged beyond his years
Marked by many battles
Victories and fears
Losses but not defeats
Play upon his mind
Memories of lost ones
Happens all the time
Love for his country
Servant of the state
Hates how politicians
Have led him to this fate
Love for his fellow man
And intelligent discourse
Hates that modern living
Place society and logic in divorce
Playing as the Harlequin
In life’s Comedy of Art
Changing all the scenery
As he plays his part
Wit, wisdom, and slapstick
Are all part of the job
Speaking truth to power
Entertaining the mob
Slave of past and futures
Whose life and daily chore
Is in the belly of the galley
Pulling on an oar
Coxswain of the vessel
Sets the course at sea
Determines for the oarsmen
The pace to victory
Runner on a winding route
Verdant lands, brilliant skies
On a course that’s never ending
At least not until he dies
Pilgrim on a journey
To an unknown place
Following his master’s footsteps
Trying to live in grace
Characters in the greatest play
That anyone will ever see
And every part is played by him
He is also playing me
Your analogy- though sublime,
Fails in standing the test of time.
For attitude is just a bluff,
That withers when the game gets tough.
The King and Queen who rule divine,
Only rule a like-suited mind.
The Jack seems a tedious thing,
But rules- syntax and meter king.
A sentence well-formed ends debate,
And shifts the suits like Crazy Eights.