The weather is still warm enough
for women to wear short skirts,
tight tops, bare midriffs,
a visual pleasure
for those who care to look,
soon to be removed
with the first chill of fall.
In the 1830’s
Americans went west
for free land,
an independent life
without government,
other restrictions.
And they endured
different conditions,
drought, floods, hostile indians
whose land was stolen.
All for the sake of freedom.
In the 1930’s
life in America had changed
and more and more people
lived in towns and cities,
easier for government to control.
For a brief while the workers
had some hope to resist the bosses
who controlled the wealth,
the means of production.
But all too soon
the children of the union leaders
joined the children of the bosses
in identical comforts,
ending resistance to oligarchy.
Across my country
the ill, sick, ailing, diseased
flock to doctors, clinics,
hospitals
hoping for a cure
of whatever plagues them
many treatable
except old age,
terminal disease
withdrawal from struggle.
The land of the free
is bitterly divided
and reason has departed
from the warring parties,
no longer willing
to compromise,
so the wealthy do
as they always do,
still allowing some of us
the democratic illusion
of choosing our government,
while many of us
don’t realize the oligarchs
select our representatives,
obliging them
to serve their masters.
Homeless children suffer
more then other children
from lack of identity,
cast adrift
in an uncaring land
no fault of their own,
opportunity removed
despite the constitutional
guarantees of l, l,
the pursuit of h,
obliterated,
as we do less and less
for innocent victims.
‘Lacerations’ is an unpublished poetry collection that looks at the many injuries we incur, mentally, emotionally and physically as we strive to do better in this difficult life.