Join us every Monday evening for drinks at the new Kos community political poetry club. Drop by and speak your mind in rhyme or blank verse. Let’s use language to scream our passion to the world. Bongos, berets and turtle neck sweaters are optional. The keypad is mightier than the sword.
This week’s theme is ‘This Perplexing Populace’; my own personal observations, astonishment and confusion at the baffling behavior of my fellow citizens. So many of them are a puzzling lot. And in return, I am sure they think I am nothing but strange myself.
Note: I have been working on this diary for the past few weeks. The first poem, which I wrote a few months after 9/11, was the basis for my theme this time around. It's purely coincidental to yesterday's news.
I often refer to my poetry as lyric-poems; lyric poetry according to the basic definition of lyric poetry, as well as poetry that could be construed as song lyrics. Some are structured, and some are not. All have some kind of music to them, but that music is still deep inside my head.
About this week’s offerings:
Stealing Flags (January 2002)
Written in response to all the supposed unity in the immediate aftermath of 9/11. Even without xenophobia and other bigotries, even in relatively kind New Mexico, some folks were treating each other very badly right away. With a flag shortage, people were stealing from veterans to show their patriotism. That December, there were book burnings by a church in Alamogordo, not so different from the mindset of the Taliban. By New Year’s Eve, guns were being shot off to “celebrate”. I guess American lives are only worth defending against foreigners.
Fed Up (sometime in 2005)
A play on two meanings of the term ‘fed up’ — how Americans in general like to eat, and how fed up some of us were getting with the behavior of the Bush Administration and their supporters.
On a Tear (April 2011)
Someone recently made a comment here on Daily Kos about how the “Republicans were going on a tear” these days. That put into words something I had been thinking for awhile; that the far right has been on a rampage. It’s one way to try to make some sense of what they’ve been doing.
Never Mind the Temperature (April 2011)
The three short verses have been waiting in a notebook for a few years now. I was thinking about how society is so caught up and/or trapped in overwhelming triviality, when meanwhile, nature has some critical things to say that we’re not listening to.
Questioning the Perplexing (April 2011)
For when you curl up on the sofa because the disbelief becomes so overwhelming.
—
Stealing Flags
So the worst thing just happened
that could possibly happen
so far anyway
And we’re all living in hell
at least for awhile
as long as it’s today
There’s an abundance to express
in anger and defiance
so many different things to say
And what a surprise
with patriotism rising like a record high tide
there’s a sudden lack of stars
and a shortage of stripes
Then some of the rest do their best
to take their neighbors’ historic bequest
yes, they’re stealing flags from veterans
waving under such quiet skies
And sometime around this Christmas
with the lights all glittering
as a consolation prize
Sparkling shimmers of color
strung sweetly among the branches
against chilly December nights
Farolitos for the fallen
luminarias for the freezing cold
and bonfires in the moonlight
So just what is it now
that we are fighting for
is it the dream of a better America
or some old fundamentalist folklore?
And what on earth can it be
that goes on behind their eyes
while they’re burning the books of children
beneath starlit indigo skies?
Then we anticipate the evening
we finally get the chance
to kiss this awful year goodbye
With bubbles in the bottles
going flat for negligence
while we lock ourselves inside
And the elected by some
in reflection selected president
says get back to your normal lives
As if anything is normal anymore
as if anything ever was before
but a few things are guaranteed
on this most popular of midnights
Those who screw their fellow Americans
like it’s an inalienable right
are shooting off guns on New Year’s Eve
into broken staccato skies
And we’re all living in hell
for a little longer now
than a simple short awhile
And they’re still out there somewhere
stealing flags
from under pinstriped skies
—
Fed Up
Watermelon peach pit
bloated just a belly bit
crunching through the tendency
of munching till distended
then waterlogged on
the grease of a dog
filling you up with hog
and slogging through marshmallow goo
we’re stuffed to the fish gills while mooing
and then some
Rough and ready
tough and teddy
not so steady on a rocking chair
all the way from way over there
regaled with the stories
of lies and glory
and flags left out in the rain
by those who disdain
those who refrain from pretending
it’s never, ever ending
I’ve had it up to here
hand me that hat from your ear
we’re going flat
when trouble is heaving
the bubbles are leaving in disbelief
exasperation is in the noose
when complex idiots are on the loose
with keys to the cause of bluffing it
and shoving it under the fluffiest rug
it’s no wonder we’re fed up
—
On a Tear
Like a moth to a lamp
a stinkbug squirreled up
between window and translucent shade
all loud buzzing and panic
all outrage and manic
those broken toys in the attic
Peeling up layers of the previously paved
our old tax dollars once at work
leaving us lost in a pothole galaxy
a dust cloud devouring the roadrunner
a dust devil full of gust and plunder
they thought they had our number
Like the upstairs toddler
learning how to run
a small wrecking ball
a determined path of destruction
this reckoning frenzy
of false mathematics
a delirium craze
of grievous politics
becomes a blubbering storm
in bewildered semantics
Gravel once spit into windshields
lines the sides of the swallowing cesspool
carved out by such reckless legislation
from this lack of empathetic capacity
from this calamitous form of stupidity
this paroxysm by committee
—
Never Mind the Temperature
Two dogs barking in the yard next door
pacing the perforations
of that urban postage stamp
a pair of slightly frantic border collies
with nothing to herd
but their sheer frustration
City ranchers out for their stylish strolls
on the crumbling high-rent historic sidewalks
take two canines, take your time
take this pill, fake your smile
it may catch up with you one day
but probably not for a very long while
if it’s gossip, then it’s fashion
the latest gadget, an absolute imperative
a distraction, an obsession
the most important dream possession
it’s the hottest new thing
so, never mind the temperature
of anything else in question
Polar bear floating
on a thinning sheet of ice
melting at the edges
glass-like for a moment
before becoming sea
Frivolity woven into the web
with silk entangled into spidery knots
the perplexity of multiple passwords
the intricacy of social demands
laying the foundation
for the quagmire on which we stand
a quandary cradled in our hands
from corporate omnipresence
belying our corporeal predicament
a plethora of excess frivolity
and a system that bogs us down
ever so intentionally
loosening up a deep liquefaction
the disunited states of stupefaction
Polar bear swimming
a little further each year
searching the expanding sea
desperate for something to eat
in this marathon of futility
—
Questioning the Perplexing
I’m curled up on the sofa like a question mark
one shoe fallen off to represent the dot
I guess I’m posing questions
in some language they forgot
Three lone bowls of soapsuds
lined up on the windowsill
a fog muddy as the dishwater
rolling in from corkscrew hill
an unravelling ball of twine
leaving behind a trail of lines
misrepresenting itself
on any given map
I’m drifting in and out
of a wavering theta state
watching question marks in space
twist around themselves in time
like clocks all wound-up backwards
in a rush to roll back anything
that takes up too much mind
As though to think brings about such pain
this slow molasses marathon
prefers repetitive refrains
and a la la hum so loud
they cannot possibly hear
that which provides relief
is exactly what they fear
this mental cage is a conundrum
a harmful set of inherent beliefs
paid far too dearly when they were bought
but for me, some kind of sleep provides escape
which is why I’m curled into a ball
entertaining actual thoughts
I’m curled up on the sofa like a question mark
one shoe fallen off to represent the dot
I guess I’m posing questions
except for when I’m not
—
All poems above ©Alexandria Levin, 2002–2011