We live our lives like

a misjudged handshake that ends

in tangled fingers

Pyrite for you fools,

golden arches covered in 

grease and platitudes 

Dripping rainwater 

gathers and flows towards the

sea and a union 

The plants in the back 

yard have gone feral, so wild

and untamable 

Ashes or dust we're 

bound to blow down that long road

into memory 

Sentences end with 

no rhyme nor conclusion just

an abrupt drop

                        off

Past the window they 

trudge towards some unknown goal while

 I quietly wait 

Walk backwards into

the abyss where history's 

lessons lie in gloom 

We still dance even 

with the strings cut and the crowd 

already moved on 

I thought they wanted us to speak English

A new language of 

lies has replaced English among

some in this country 

Stare in awe at the 

dawn but pray you get home by

the time the sun sets 

The prey pray for a

safe space as hunger drives the 

pride ever forward  

While you scourge yourself

for the littlest fault they 

make evil an art  

The old men sit by

the river with fishing poles 

and Hemingway dreams 

While farmers' daughters 

cavort the cows run wild since 

the barn door is agape 

The sunflowers are 

blooming and their heads hang down

in judgement of all 

Smoke from a million 

acres chokes the people who

still deny the cause 

Civility cracked 

like concrete opening to

a yawning cavern 

Joyous shouting from the

summer streets harks back to a

simpler time that calls 

While poets starve and

artists crawl a few callous 

oligarchs succeed 

Braggadocio

bottoms out by dawn's bell and

bellows your self-doubt 

Billionaires should not

exist, but since they do, we

hear they're edible 

Pluck the ruby-like

fruit straight from the tree and pop

it into your mouth 

You, a Brit, a friend,

picked up an American 

gun, and were then gone

As the train rattles 

down the twisted track the blind

conductor muses  

Raise your hands towards the 

light or wait to be razed by 

the dwellers of night 

The firebird slips through

your blistered hands but still you

run in wild pursuit 

The detonation 

of our inalienable rights 

is the real fireworks 

You spirit wrestlers 

who grapple with God will tap out, 

bruised but no wiser  

Dead gods once wept for 

lost worshipers dwindled down 

to a few sad souls 

Fatuous flunkies,

debt-ridden and deprived, wave

their frayed little flags