SECTION THIRTEEN
POETRY PAGE TEN


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COLUMN FIFTY-EIGHT, APRIL 1, 2001
(Copyright 2001 Al Aronowitz)

 

Pursuit of Presidential happiness

 Let's all go down to the voting booth
 Let's go down and play the sleuth
 Take a turn and cast our vote
 Then watch TV burn the truth  

Dimpled, pregnant, punched clear through
They left poor Chad hangin' by a thread
Then spread the word out side the door
Chad's been punched like a sadist' whore  

 When we punch our ballot
 When we mark our X
 Man with the money's
 going to get the checks  

 While the cocaine calls
 and the cocaine balls
 They say it ain't us
 doing anything at all  

 But the power of the powder
 Cuttin' like a router
 through realities stuff...
 bet their pleasure felt real enough  

 One cane, co-cane
 three crutches layin' in a wheelchair
 satic standin' up my hair
 Your pair my pair they're square  

 Locked in a concrete box
 or a brass cannister
 that's not static in a 'lectric chair
 Truth's been traded worse for wear  

Dimpled, pregnate, punched clear through
They left poor Chad hangin' by a thread
Then spread the word out side the door
Chad's been punched like a sadist' whore  ##  

* * *

Bruises
Time heals all wounds, but...  

They make old maids of young, sweet women
They starve the world of grace and talent
They twist the smiles from beautiful faces
And cause such child be bound with hell's own laces  

A perpetual flow of love can not erase
The scars that ache in rages' wake
But sages' love can build a joy to live
Shake the horrors into their graves
And re-awake an innocence of grace  

Love can do all things to heal the wounded heart
But it cannot begin to part the rage that starts
The violent acts insulting all mankind
In circles so unkind's to kill the human spirit

Be it ghost, or shadows, or mere reflections
Triggering nightmares' debilitating chains
All hell rains down on those abused
Causing them to feel accused of being cause  

Love alone can not repair the damage done
But love with loving actions may renew the spirit
To find hope allied with loving folk
To break the yoke of rages' madness  

And a whole, new person may be born
Forewarned of where and what deep cavern
Rage may lie to strike its victim
And be prepared to rally all their strength

To chop the length of violent arms
With sharp exposure's sword to slice the veils
Of secrecy and bondage' bloody trails
And nail them hard to their own cross  

Tossing them to wolves of their own creation
No one dare confront the strength of numbers
Loved ones may surround their being with
In cloaks of kindness, security and truth  

Yet, one on one, here, too,
The ruthless truth is
Rages' violence breeds in homes
Where frustrations are re-cloned  

With whatever excuse be needed
For any, single, son of satan to lash-out
At what that one is not capable of loving,
Its self . and anyone close, about  

And the only remedy, at hand,
Is to get the victim out
And shout loud to the world
Of who and where such cowards stand.  

Time heals all wounds,
But who can erase the scars?  ##  

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