The Gift of the Mad Guy
In a plain white van,
December 20th, 2:45pm.
Christmas music plays on the radio.
Behind the wheel is a heathen.
Behind the heathen is cargo.
My sleigh is loaded with bits and pieces of anything with wheels and a motor.
Two Ford transmission oil coolers will have to do for turtle-doves.
Our seedy, grasping world could certainly use more joy.
In a box I have six piston-seal kits, but no joy.
There never seems to be enough peace on earth.
Myself, I'm fresh out of peace, but I can get you what you need,
if what you need is a Honda steering column,
Good will toward men can be hard to come by,
harder than finding a camshaft for an '86 Buick Skylark.
We speak of a season of hope and a little baby Jesus.
My friend Mike told me that having a baby is the most hopeful act of all.
What I have is a baby granddaughter, my little goddess,
so I have a lot of hope.
Baby? Check.
Hope? Check.
Got Christmas covered.
Next year, I'll be in a white GMC Savana full of car parts and hope,
searching for peacemakers and good will,
knowing I am not the only one.
Good will can be found on the road ahead,
in the air above,
in fields, on farms,
in the streets and stores, the factories and houses big and small.
Peace and holy joy will not shower down on us from stars.
If we truly want peace, we must make peace and earn the joy it brings.
Hone the tools.
Dig down under the snow, in the frozen red mud.
Pick and pound and shovel out brotherhood.
Soldiers suffer frozen feet and broken bodies to make war.
Making peace asks no less of those who struggle for it.
Shoulder the hod.
Next spring, after planting, we will carry water
for working the clay into tiles and bricks.
Split wood. Stack the brickyard fires.
Burn and blow and harden our thirst for righteousness.
Fire the bricks of justice. Mix up the mortar of liberty and respect.
Build our babies a house of peace.
This poem would not be possible without the discernment of Kossack rubyr.
Kalliope
Means "beautiful voice" from Greek καλλος (kallos) "beauty" and οψ (ops) "voice". In Greek mythology she was a goddess of epic poetry and eloquence, one of the nine Muses.
Join us every Tuesday night for drinks at the Daily Kos community political poetry club
Your own poetry is always welcome in the comments
Bongos, berets & turtle neck sweaters optional
The keypad is mightier than the sword
Readers & Book Lovers Series Schedule: