Fourth Of July
It will not take six years to compose this pome
I am more Picasso then…
Van Gogh was insane and so am I
When I don’t take the Clozaril
When I cheat on my medicine I write
Glorious words
Wonderful phrases
But I am not manic now
Is that good or bad?
Rants of logical beauty
Therein we define
In the poem there exists the line
Text without a context is but pretext?
True or FALSE!
When Darius rolled the stone away from the lion’s den
(Yes we should all know this story!)
Daniel was wide awake!
Most likely steadfast in fearful prayer
I met a Native American in Canada
At the bread and breakfast Sylvia and I
Visited
The woman who ran the place was a
figure skater
She claims that she would have won the gold medal
Olympics
But her turn was 1976
And Canada boycotted
But she doesn’t tell that story much?
As I heard it repeated the next day to the
Other newly arrived guests
Her husband was of some local tribe
I talked to him briefly
“It’s a windy day”
The word wind and spirit is the same Hebrew word
He agreed
It was a windy day after all
The man, the Indian to be
Derogatory
For they are Native Americans
Indigenous peoples
Even Sioux
Is properly Lakota
Dakota
Nakota
The redskin
Well he paints pictures
He uses a sewing needle
And with intricate excellence
Applies spot by spot to the picture
It takes an entire year to create one of his works.
He told me
(And I find no reason to believe it is not true)
(He had no forked tongue)
That he sells
500 duplicates
no more / no less
At a $100 a piece
(Though I failed to ask whether he asked for)
Canadian or US currency
This pome is not like that
This poem uses a broad brush
It is raw
Like a starving snarling wolf
Tossed a Thanksgiving turkey leg
Gobbling gulping growling grotesque
It was the Fourth of July weekend
And Canada has a similar celebration
So the fireworks were on both sides
There is a straight line dividing most of Canada
And the United States
Just as nature abhors a vacuum
(Though what has the vacuum done?)
So a straight line is a bizarre phenomenon
Genocide
It has taken over five hundred years to write this pome
I resisted because I wanted a happy ending
Daniel
He was a homosexual
His real name was Joshua
I won’t use his last name for legalities
Maybe he don’t want the world to know
He was a flaming fag
Daniel
It means God is my Judge
Context
Without context we can conclude anything
The Road Less Traveled
Is the highway to hell?
I am here in the half light
Trying the capture
The rhythm the lucidity
I fail to feel a well placed comma will detract or enhance
You see no matter what style you paint the picture
As it hangs upon the museum wall
By definition you first view the picture from a distance
How you further
Dissect?
Inspect?
Reject?
Genuflect? ha ha I hope
That is purely up to you
One day and of this I am boldly sure
When we change the calendar
The
FOUTH OF JULY
Will be no more
POLISHED FRAGMENTS
Poet To The Poor
