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" A Few Political Poems "

                                   

 

                           

                                  THE  ELECTORATE

                           -------------------------------------------------

                              Here is the riddle of riddles:
                          
                              what big, dull-witted beast
 
                              is supposed to be blind on the edges

                              but, atleast, wise in the middle?

                              
                              

                      
                                  THE  POSTMODERN

                           -----------------------------------------------------

                               As a child, you squirmed alot
                               with impatient desire

                               empowered by a new box
                               of multi-colored crayons
                               and enough blank pages
                               to narrate any tale you could inspire
                               
                               but chose instead
                               to scribble violent
                               swirls of red
                               and black
                               death.
 
                               Now, we hang your gory
                                     lil drawings
                               from every corner of culture
                               like an embarrassing
                               refrigerator story


                     
                          THE  HARLOT'S  CUP

                       -------------------------------------------------------------

                              Our great society
                              no longer rots quietly
                              in psuedo-family  lots

                              but like some dying drunk
                              in a dirty, business suit  
                              it pleads (on the absolute brink)
                              for "Justice!"
                              though really 
                              for a drink

                              It is so confused

                              This great society
                              will not go quietly to hell
                              where the child dies for his mother,
                              the Press interviews itself,
                              and Pollsters poll each other

                              All the while
                              smiling,
                              angry too,
                              holding up 
                              the foaming cup

                              We are so confused.                                                   

                            




                              
                                                                          

 

                         

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