- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Independence Day
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Click herePondering the days between what was,
what is,
and what may someday be.
A promise from a "leader"
change is the illusion,
God of politics,
never seen, constantly wrapped
in cloaks of secrecy,
political smokescreens.
Promises,
to the promiser,
are like pristine snow
in a Vermont blizzard.
Wake up it's all you see,
a week later most is gone,
melted dreams,
forgotten hopes, but
somewhere,
sometime,
enough will remember,
reassemble the cavalry.
Clear, perfumed,
blue skies beckon,
delivered in sunny oratories,
cemented with the tenacity
of Vermont snowflakes.
Pathetic tricksters,
emboldened with stuffed
bellies and checkbooks,
pretend to empathize,
question reigning apathy.
Was this the plan,
230 years ago,
the grand design,
freedom for all,
Big Macs for everyone
as opportunity rots
in inner-city tenements
on a hot July day,
buried in lying snow
of corporate politics?
Slipping,
we all are slipping,
through the sanctuary
of all, into bitterness
of me,
lead blindly by
promisers of more.
- COMMENTS
My Erotic Trailalmost 18 years agoI recall a saying by Tom Brown; the farther a man's feet are from the earth the farther from reality he becomes. Nice pen QP~
(~_~)
