A Christmas Song

A Christmas Song

Art is not immortal,

And the world is dying,

Finishing in chaos,

Anger and confusion.

Another Xmas passes

Backing up the traffic,

As the planet perishes

In ersatz happiness.

What will come tomorrow?

A half-polluted ocean,

Animals and fishes

All dead upon the shore.

But not a human being

Except perhaps a savage

Spared the crucifixion

Of the verdant globe.

12-24-13

 

Labels

My barber is a racist.

My barber is a Christian.

My barber is a jingo. And

It keeps him very busy.

I said, “He's not a racist.”

I said, “He's not a Christian.”

I said, “He's not a jingo.” And

My barber said, “What is he??”

12-24-13

 

Modern

Disfigurement and wars,

Cutting people's throats -

More meaningful than Porter,

My generation gloats.

The ego of Colossus,

A repertoire of cant,

Declaring that a rhyme's

Inferior to slant.

This poem is a rant.

Nothing more will matter

Or be of any worth

When Christians and Republicans

Dominate the Earth.

Nothing for the sick.

Nothing for the old.

Prayers and an M-16,

And the streets are gold.

The cops do what they're told.

12-24-13

 

Were everyone born

Were everyone born with empathy,

Life wouldn't hurt so much.

Religions are totally selfish.

And unbelievers are shot.

This Christmas is almost over.

The traffic has ebbed at last.

A day for the kiddies, then silence,

And all of it is past.

12-24-13

Fiends

If you're crazy and you're small,

Policemen will not come at all.

If you're beaten by the road

And left alone to die,

And call the doctors, you're afraid.

The shrinks just say “goodbye”.

Little kids in Africa

Conscripted in the war,

Have no lives, no homes, no love,

Not ever – any more.

This is Man! He has a god.

He has one of many.

In the ruins and the slums,

Gods do not go, not any.

If you're sick or if you're old

And ask for help abjectly,

It isn't what Man will not do,

But what he does directly.

When the villain's got you down -

No force on earth will check

His progress into victory.

Talons in the neck!

12-24-13

 

A Sleepy Cat

A little bit of life

That sleeps for 20 years,

Then disappears forever.

No one ever hears

The story of a cat

That lies upon your lap,

Purrs and licks your fingers,

Then takes a little nap.

12-24-13

 

Jumping Beans

Why should I write poesy?
I am going to die

And be absorbed into the universe.

If I have great talent,

Then my poesy will last -

In a certain culture

For a certain length of time.

Limited! It's all so limited!

Shallow flippant pieces

That will make somebody laugh

(Like me) – and never try for deeper stuff -

This should be my goal

And my ambition – but it isn't.

There is a worm inside a jumping bean.

12-24-13

 

Cats

Cats recover quickly

From a psychiatric injury -

Face against the wall in shame -

Then purring in your lap -

Terror at a touch, and then

He's licking you. A kitten

Is blind at birth. From gentleness

A germinal affection.

12-25-13