Old world sensibilities
Recounting how they used to exist in solitude
Before landing upon foreign shores
Bringing hostility & menacing attitudes
But we’re the aliens we’ve dreaded
The scourge has already been here
Talking heads with no shortage of breath
Keep reminding us who we should fear
Rereading Orwell and taking notes
Not going to be ruled nor romanced
By an adolescent philosophy
Anyone’s faulty & retched political stance
We need to think for ourselves again
Too many left for dead it seems
Generation of choreographed absurdity
& gathering the news by sharing memes
But I have faith we can regain our promise
By exposing kindness & compassion instead
It is possible to lead by inspiration
Instead of ruling by threats & dread
***
and another thing;
a note to those in power
we need to rename political parties
CSPAN is the lamest way to spend an hour
Forgotten in the ether
Against the stones on the shore
Fatigue hitting hard at sunrise
Before the day might restore
You cannot outlive a memory
Our fates left to a diminished chance
Bound to the sea by luck or force
Drifting silently with suspicious circumstance
Dog eared postcards & other totems
Words from home to quench the tide
Meandering scribbles in the margin
Dreading the prospect of another ride
Smelling coffee long before
These tired eyes were ever meant to open
Dreading wakin’ and meetin’ people
No time like now, so here’s to hopin’
The day started & it’s past time to rise
One foot out & eventually the other leg
I’m going to need more of this magic juice
I feel society comin’ at me like the damn plague
“We are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter.”
― Allen Ginsberg, Howl and Other Poems
Captain Q 