2014 01 12
White glow on black x-ray sheet calculates
searing pain of wisdom that splits my skull.
When I was a young man, decades ago,
people told me I resembled two men
famous about one hundred years ago,
Leon Trotsky and Ezra Pound, two men
no more opposite, mirrors of my ego.
One day we all woke up just before dawn,
our moon blooming as apples in our hands,
and found we are all living in Macondo.
Our right to live in liberty and peace
supersedes your right to carry a gun.
If the funniest man who ever lived,
full of laughter, mocking everything serious,
because he loves everything with deep passion,
decides to exit the comic stage of life,
then I must stay here in this world and laugh
in the face of death till death takes me too.
Every eighty years we erupt in war,
clashing over ideology and land,
and destroy institutions that controlled
process of life in our society,
then build new institutions to maintain
peaceful production of willing wage slaves.
Where do you slouch to now, cruel beast of hate,
nourished by terror through worship of gods?
Spark of outrage burns in frustrated hearts,
fueled by oppression of rich against poor.
I am a reconstructionist philosopher,
reconstructing cathedral of wisdom
in epic poem about history of science.
If I was walking with my friends downtown
would I get shot because my skin is brown?
We must ensure equality for all
who share benefits of democracy,
then we will win against religious hate.
Sweet Onatah, your ancient soul of light
I feel in song of wind that moves my heart
to love this land where you forever shine.
Haunting flute tune in birch wood echoes lost,
and wraps slow beating heart in muffled mist.
Empty raft floats away toward waterfall.
I read so many stories in the news
about people whose careless actions cause
sad death of some other person they loved.
Will they ever feel simple joy again
or will their mind be so forever wracked
with crippling guilt and horror in despair
that they will never regain innocence?
I do not drink sweet coffee to start my day,
therefore I am not a grim growling monster
who needs a cup to mask my eyes with sparks.
I live in the lush land of Onatah,
Corn Maiden who scatters corn in the soil,
and her loving song brings me back to life.
I stand on top an ancient cement wall
that long divided soul of Germany
and dance to celebrate its tyrant fall.
I am pleased that insular America
is maturing and transforming its nature
into a rich multiracial society.
We may have all arrived on different ships,
but everyone is in the same boat now.
We must work together or we will drown.