Once, there was a light
and that was good;
it warmed us where we stood,

but where it cooled
they raised red hands,
"hammer-sickle make the man,"
holding guns to the earth with a list of demands,

but Red's rockets glare quietly, now,
so bombs can clean the air?
Let's burst coal from smokey mountain tops,
resounding laissez faire,

spilling borders onto levy-crops,
building nations which we'll lie atop,
we know all
but when to learn
and stop
the polar ice caps going melting pot.

We cast our shadows like our votes,
and spin each newsday with a globe--
where the middle finger lands, we stand,
one nation: indivisible,

except for that once,
but

on that fateful September morning
everything changed
and
now more than ever
we will never forget

fifty six years ago
it was two minutes to midnight

so wake up,
pull on your soap-box slippers
and blog mad--
that damned FOX News said something bad,

or pray
to a non-denominational silence
that Atlas is shrugging,
bowling off
four and a half billion years of active duty
on bad intel
and poor benefits,

or strike for equal pay,
clean the gutters,
oil the lanes,
split a plate of freedom fries,

just spare me the details,

I'm going out for a pack of smokes.

Be sure to
bring our troops home
now
safely
victorious,
water New Orleans once a year,
and please, tell my son
that history will be kind to me.

02/05/2009

Author's Note: This is an updated version of and older poem, also in my library. It wasn't what I wanted before.

Posted on 02/05/2009
Copyright © 2024 Matthew Zangen