A True Story

A True Story


He wrote some wild polemics
About the USA
And creeps like Ronald Reagan
Who hit and got away.


The Constitution says
That everyone is free -
Who can afford a lawyer,
Not for you and me.


So he was put in prison.
Forgetting he was there
No one came to visit
And no one seemed to care.


He wrote another poem -
To Obama with dismay
And tied it to a dove
And sent it on its way.


Obama got the poem
And liked it very much.
He sent the Secret Service
To search the poet's hutch.


They found a lot of poems
For the president to read.
He thought they all were beautiful
And had the poet freed.


The poet's books were published.
Oprah read them through
And told a hungry country
They were beautiful and true.


The country follows Oprah
Like actors followed Liz.
The poet was a hero,
And wealth and fame were his.

Byron


Byron would be greater
Than I'd like to think I am
If everything he wrote weren't such an
Artificial sham.


His rhythms are impeccable.
His rhymes are clever stunts.
But I do not believe in him – not once -
Not even once.


I like his cynicism.
(Or is that another pose?)
My first Romantic hero.
I'm over him, god knows.


Browsing in the library
At school one day I found
All his songs together and so
Beautifully bound.


I thought the day I stood there
How wonderful to look
Like this.  I don't love Byron,
I only love the book.


The rhythms and the phrases
So glorious and free -
I loved everything that Byron
Intended them to be.


5-31-14