The American Ritual Dance

Dear God,
With heavy hearts
We gather here
To say goodbye
To those who were taken away
At the prime of their lives;
(By our inaction but that’s another matter)
And send our condolences
To the grieving families,
May time heal their hurts,
(Sure time heals everything you know)
And make them whole again.

Phew, with that out of our hearts
It’s now time,
Let the barbeques begin,
And the donations roll in;
You know it’s not easy folks
To stand up for your rights
To bear arms
With empty pockets
Every two, four or six years;
Let the good times begin.

And while we are at it,
Don’t forget to remember those
Who gave up their lives
To protect your rights
To turn this land of
The free and the braves
Into killing fields,
With AR15s for one and all;
Don’t you fret,
We have judges who know
Which side to butter the bread;
Well, obviously they obfuscate
During the nomination process,
Lest they don’t get elevated.
(They are not politicians you know)

God willing we shall make this land
A prison soon,
With guns for one and all;
(Isn’t that what 2nd Amendment all about)
Let’s decree guns for the newborns,
Afterall we are the ones
Who stand up for their right to be born,
So that we have enough
For our target practices;
Remember, it’s not guns that kill,
People do,
So go and make merry as you like,
What did you say?
A knife?
It doesn’t kill that many,
AR15s that’s what you must have
To kill a deer unarmed;
We are a country of laws,
And we shall fight
With all our might
To preserve your right
To snuff out the light,
From young and old alike
With futures bright.

Ah, what you say,
Tears coming down our cheeks..?
(Must be the smoke from the barbeque)
Hey, don’t you blame the crocodiles,
They don’t come after their kids with guns,
You need a special breed for that,
We are Americans!
And you know for those who need
We have mental health,
(That we ourselves surely need)
But no, can’t deprive them also
Of their rights,
It’s a free country all right,
Except for the rights victims of rape and incest
To abort;
We are a great country,
Unique in the world
Remember that well on the Tuesday of November.
The list grows longer they say,
Well you know the more the merrier,
Gives us more opportunities
To come out and assure our constituents,
We stand with them dancing
The American ritual dance.

What Matters to Me – Random Ramblings

I was walking with my dog .Skooby, today morning.  It was a beautiful morning, a cool breeze blowing, a clear sunny California day.  It was not a long walk, about two miles.  As I was walking, the idea of a poem was sprouting in my mind.  I could clearly see the words floating in front of my eyes.  I decided to write the poem down as soon as I reached home.  Alas, once I reached home and sat down to write, I realized my beautifully arranged words were no longer lining up as beautifully and now all jumbled up. I opened my smartphone and was disappointed as it turned out not to be smart but dumb.  The dumb phone failed to record my thoughts.  What good is its smartness for?  Now I was forced to rely on my old, failing memory instead of the smart memory of my phone.  Well, to make a long story short, the poem did not turn out to be as beautiful as I envisioned.  But rest assured, though it may sound to be a rambling one, I did not have a single iota of malice in my mind towards anyone.  Not even to the one whose statue would never be erected to adorn any significant public square anywhere in the world to be toppled by future protesters.  In fact I am indebted to him for being the inspiration of the poem.

 

When did it come to this,

The choice of

Six feet apart, or

Six feet under

Became valid?

We became afraid

To cough in public,

But OK to fart,

Louder the better,

No infection danger.

When did it become the norm

To wear mask in public,

But wearing hijab is

Still wrong?

And those in denial

Justifying their refusal

To wear mask,

Proclaiming their freedom of choice,

When it become OK

To knowingly infect others?

And that’s not a crime?

Are these the same

Who indignantly proclaim

Their rights to bear arms?

Reasoning guns don’t kill

People do,

Now will they say

People do not infect,

Corona does?

We are all so scared of 

The truth,

And embrace

All the fake news.

As long as the 

Chief protagonist

Butters our toasts

It’s OK.

Toasts may get

Burnt black,

Who cares,

As all life matters

But it is difficult to say

Black life matters, because

All does not include black.

Sometimes I wonder,

Who created white and black,

Blue and brown?

Blue blood,

Never seen one.

If ever I see the almighty

I do plan to ask.

But which one?

All the children of the books

Profess only to their one.

If even I dare to say

I do pray,

But not to the one 

You or you do,

I shall be 

Consigned to hell.

Spokesperson who hijacked

The words of the

All merciful,

May say

Off with my head,

If I dare to doubt.

I prefer my neck

On my head.

Neither do I prefer

To go to hell,

Not that what they are making

This earth is

Any better.

Peace be on you all

If I dare say,

But whose peace? 

Oh, how I digress

For whatever it counts

To me,

Black lives matter,

Lives of the repressed matter,

Lives of the discriminated matter,

Lives of the oppressed matter,

Lives of the persecuted matter,

And yes, All lives matter.

Guns do kill,

As Covid kills,

As people kill,

As lies kill.

And I want my freedom

To cough in public,

Even hidden behind 

The mask.

No, not to infect.

I don’t relish the thought

To fake

And fart

To hide my cough.

 

Bloodhounds are running amok

‘The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;’ – WB Yeats

They come in ones, they come in twos
They come in hordes, they come in groups
Spears, knives and swords are old history
Now they all have guns to create misery
Knights they are not, bravery and chivalry is out the door
Cowards are they, they are not bothered by lore
They have supporters all around claiming guns don’t kill
Those politicians, masquerading righteous saints, up on the Hill
Shedding crocodile tears and observing moments of silence
When innocent lives are snuffed out by acts of dastardly violence
Bloodhounds are running amok emboldened by their backing
Innocence is the victim when pretentious fools refuse to enact ruling


This poem is in response to Jane Dougherty’s A Month (November) with Yeats Challenge day Eight

 

 

 

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