The Promised Land
give a brother the firsthand place
at discourse, until face to face,
(if give and take offers the space
to argue well or rest his case),
pleads deference is due his race,
in lieu of ideas to trace.
to those able craftsmen whose vocation is the news,
one dissent from your monetarily, influenced views:
the protections of first amendment rights, you seduce!
We, the public, vested in these rights to know, refuse
you the right to trample privacy, in blind abuse
of its equal guarantees. Need we laws to induce
media inform its public, but no man abuse?
Two sartorial senators disclose,
"A man is known by other than his clothes!"
Pursue them through the cul-de-sac they chose,
And cornered there, poorer logic dispose.
When the whole world's stinks, careful with their pose,
Two stuffed shirts from New Jersey hold the nose.
a page-less tome in Sanskrit written
dead the words no longer there
dead the dreams of ancients smitten
dead the daring to passion share
dead the dust of the graves unbidden
a sage-less poem of the gods unfair
the tryst we missed
when our lips kissed,
o lettie, how did we sire this lot?
eve's adder hissed...
be these guinevere de lancelot??
pill time and pulchritude,
diminished pillow talk...
some savoir faire for the prude
may metamorphose the walk,
as viagra, her dude
does youthful ardor mock.
Most are not now nor shall they be,
Enrobed like each of them...
Self-made garments, the blind can see,
Long sleeves, large waists, no hem,
Designed for pols who face TV,
review, re-spew their phlegm.
when wretches wish for riches,
require failure to be owned;
but if life's doleful snitches
plumbed their dark history's niches,
we'd find horrors not atoned.
Just a high-stakes game of chess,
The board, a maze in progress,
Movements destined, more or less,
Seem no more but simple guess?
Yet, soul's immortal congress
Derives from choices to stress
Actions, misdeeds to redress,
And fools may their past confess?
is hard to recapture innocence
once she finds the door,
racing hard, lusting experience,
dying on its floor;
unblemished beauty's final breath,
blindly embracing deceitful death,
she, the child at play.
If the world's wise to the ladies' surprise
One day should arrange their extinction,
Passion then dies, bereaving the eyes,
For beauty gives wisdom distinction.
A nation of laws, so what's the big deal,
Do what you please, lie, cheat and steal,
Perjure an oath, throw honor to the wind,
Proclaim, "I'm not Guilty of sin"?
Thy name is cynicism freeing....
Spice of life, experience far seeing,
A Song of the soul to its well-being...
Hope for the Promised Land's, believing.
copyright 1999, The Goober Tree Press, all rights reserved