Proud American

In any case, it can’t be clear,
we see factories smoking Lucky Strikes,
belching blackness into the cancer-stricken sky.

We see G.I. Joes playing cops and robbers,
on the streets of soul-food diners, corner liquor-stores and tenement settlements.

We see high-stakes poker-players,
playing Monopoly with week-to-week paycheck maker’s money.

We see comatose masses,
hypnotized by one hundred and fifty channel sixty-four inch pornographic babysitters.

We see lawyers and liars and lobbyists and loggers and doctors and dentists and draft-dodgers
riding a never-ending roller-coaster Tilt-a-Whirl Loop-the-Loop
of no taxation without representation.

We see all this, from the microscopic to the astronomic,
and yet we live and die in darkness…

– Kurt Poleet

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“My country, right or wrong,” is a thing that no patriot would think of saying except in a desperate case. It is like saying, “My mother, drunk or sober.” – G. K. Chesterton

Contingencies

Mascara tears drizzle down her cheek,
a few more beers and it’s not so bleak.
Take me for a ride,
one phenomenal ride,
past prison bars and distant stars,
fat bass busting out my speakers,
steal a brand-new pair of sneakers,
brimming with satire ’round the campfire.
Barbarians at the gate,
fueled by nothing more than hate.
Really? A wrinkle in space and time?
Your philosophy ain’t worth one thin dime…

– Kurt Poleet

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“When everything was ready, the stranger opened his eyes, moved to the table, filled a tumbler with tea for himself and one for the beardless old man to whom he passed it. Pierre began to feel a sense of uneasiness, and the need, even the inevitability, of entering into conversation with this stranger.” – Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace

You can’t grow roses in cement

If you’re looking for justice, just turn away,
somewhere, there must be a better game to play,
like an egg salad sandwich left outside to rot,
the have-nots languish
in a hopeless state of anguish.

To try to greet the day with a smile is a chore,
is there food to feed the children?
Not today, not no more,
enough schools to teach the children?
Not today, not no more.

The sun never seems to shine
in this lonely jail of mine,
there’s no reason to lament,
you can’t grow roses in cement…

– Kurt Poleet

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Atticus Finch: If you just learn a single trick, Scout, you’ll get along a lot better with all kinds of folks. You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view… Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it. – To Kill a Mockingbird