[lit-ideas] TRIPTYCH TIME

THEN

I can't recall what Cause 
caused us to take to the streets, 
leaving the basements where 
we had spent so many joyous days
making bombs of their faces,
into the streets we took 
to face a company of bayonets,
helicopters buzzing us
like psychotic wasps --
raised fists our only weapon.
Ach, so many heads busted, ribs cracked, backs smacked.
before we were put back in place.
But like I say, I can't recall what called us forth that day.
So many noble ideas then.
Just another failed revolution.
                     


NOW

Money's not funny, that much I've learned.
Even God demands his cut.
So you expected -- what?
That the world would prize what you've discerned?
Ooo and ah over your perceptions?
Listen bub, there are no exceptions,
turn a profit or be overturned.
There's only one true poem, the GNP,
All else is a gas tank reading empty.
What matters this: how much have you earned.
That is our purpose and that alone.
But if you'd rather you can go gnaw on a bone.


TO BE


An ancient ritual, a celebration, 
an exaltation of life played out in fire colors, 
trees sacrifice parts of their bodies
to thank and sustain the Earth.

But we with motor made winds
herd the leaves into body bags.
Life is just too messy.  Better death.

****


Mike Geary
Memphis

Other related posts: