StarPoet Newsletter Vol. XII, No. IV

There was a moment when we accidently
Sang in perfect five part harmony,
Each voice clear and confident
Without hesitation or doubt;
Then the moment passed and we have spent
The last half century trying to regain
What we once so innocently held,
A wandering band of children
Chasing their long missing grail.

I've been waiting for the post-apocalypse
Nigh on a half century now,
Always expecting my world to implode
In a mushroom cloud or inertial collapse.
When I was young I was worried
That my copy of Rubber Soul would vaporize,
It didn't, I didn't,  but the tunes and harmonies
Still run loudly through my head.  Now it appears
The world again might not outlast me,
If I don't relax, if no one fucks up,
If Jesus don't come and muck up all our plans.

We have been doomed ever since
"Our American Cousin" was played
And the traitor escaped from Ford's;
We allowed the treasonous South
To continue in private rebellion,
Dishonoring the federal troops
Who gave their lives at Gettysburg;
We had save the Constitution
And the Union only to throw it
All away the night Lincoln died.

Something new, something old,
Same old, same old
Recyclable news.

A new beginning, a new frontier,
Same old old deal
Snake oil salesman.

I I I I, me me me me,
I won, I think, I told you so,
Y'all better listen and believe.

This is from the left, smug and righteous
-- "Palin should be incarcerated
For treason and advocating violence.
You're dead.  You're whores,
You're dingbats and wackos." --
Washing their hands of guilt or blame,
Proclaiming their innocence to
Anyone who might listen.

The question in Tucson is mental illness
And access, easy access to guns;
No one is willing to arrest the perps,
And I'm unwilling to be a quiet victim.
If they want to change the ammendment,
I am all for putting bearing arms to a vote,
But do they really expect to win?

If life were really a musical,
I would be the catchy curtain song
That serves to close the first act,
The tune they'd all be humming
When the audience leaves the theater.

I would be the star attraction,
The spotlight would be on another
More willing to grin and shuffle,
But I'd be the one you'd remember
A month later over pie and coffee.

Some night when sleep won't come,
My song will still be keeping you up,
Looping 'round and around your brain
Even as you fail to remember my name.

Fess Parker, Barbara Billingsley,
Bits and pieces of my childhood
Dying one by one by one;

An egalatarian American capitalism
with a sustainable American workforce,
As quaint now as a horse drawn carriage;

When Jack said jump, we went to the moon,
Beat the Russians into quick, democratic submission,
Then walked away from our heroic destiny;

Marvelous families with marvelous dreams,
The bedrock faith in the American way,
Hard work, individualism, and personal success;

The slow, twisting death of the American dream,
Coonskin caps replaced by Nike Air Jordans
Full of flash and sparkle and You Tube ready.

Let us raise our voices in praise of winter,
Bitter winds that frigid both flesh and bone,
Depths of snow that diligently layer
Our cars and sidewalks and roads.

Let us sing of trees, stark and bare,
Flower beds frozen for months ahead,
Shivering birds and frantic squirrels
Desperate for food and warmer shelter.

Here's a toast to grand Father Winter
In all his ancient frosty splendor,
His rule is cruel, his rage intimidating,
But summer will cook us soon enough.

A barren high desert filled with
Tumbleweed and mesquite,
A dusty town on the Mexican border
Lined with American flags and cowboys;
A simmering caldron of American
Frustration and passion --
Immigration, health care, the economy --
Anti-Washington anger seeded in history,
Death threats and hate mail since Wyatt
Took back Tombstone for the good guys
-- Crimes, joblessness, alcohol and drugs --
A president safely in his white house
While the world goes to hell in Tucson.

Chaos punctuated
With blood splatters and screams,
Bodies falling pop pop pop pop,
A massacre in the desert
Outside of the Safeway,
Crazees out roaming the streets
Practicing their constitutional rights;

Chaotic democracy,
A Republic slipping over the edge,
Shouting and yelling, mob rule
One lonely glock at a time,
Prisoners of well intentioned laws,
True believers and demented wingnuts
Launching us into the badlands.