by Rick Young | May 8, 2020 | Poem
Saw Barr’s latest fractured fairy tale,
letting one more bad guy out of jail.
Flynn insures us lies can win,
with the blessings of Putin.
Donnie got right on the horn,
told Vlad a new star is born.
Manafort and Stone now wait
for their coming open gate.
It’s a stone cold Barr procession,
all bets off on all confession.
Liars, schemers, cons and grifters
loosed on Broadway with the Drifters.
Both FOX and the Christian right
will be getting tight tonight.
Russia’s now our friend again.
New beginning of the end.
by Rick Young | May 4, 2020 | Poem
I remember Kent State and how it changed my life.
Had a pass from G.I. training, was in Frisco with my wife.
When I saw it on t.v., I said I can’t go back.
Supposed to save our country, baby, not go on attack.
She flew east, I’d follow soon, and in the airport then,
I saw Ravi Shankar and the great Doctor Spock, Ben.
Realized these were signs of changing times and hit the road.
Slept that night at UC Berkeley, took the fork that bode.
It was June before I hit New England’s salty shores.
I was called deserter then, ranked somewhere below whores.
When I turned myself in, I was hollowed out by wrath.
Their view from a different lens was drugged sociopath.
And so I was locked in awhile with madmen and drug addicts.
Mostly I just stood and stared, didn’t cause much static.
In September, I was tossed out, next month had a son.
Yes, I remember Kent State as a soldier with no gun.
by Rick Young | May 1, 2020 | Poem
It’s hard to come to terms with germs.
They’re just so god-damned small.
It’s quite unfair to know they’re there,
yet not see them at all.
If they would just emit a glow
or make some tiny sound,
then we could wrangle them and throw
their dread souls on the ground.
We spray in their direction
and sometimes meet success,
but they have hiding spots galore.
It really is a mess.
We fight this daily battle,
a cold front pitched in hell.
And now we find, O most unkind,
they’ve moved inside as well.
by Rick Young | Apr 30, 2020 | Poem
[Throwback Thursday]
I’ve fallen out of grace with my face.
It’s now defined by lines of time and place.
a roadmap etched with pathways to the past,
a drying parchment never meant to last.
by Rick Young | Apr 22, 2020 | Poem
Hey, lets go down to Georgia now it’s open.
We can catch a film and have a meal.
So what if we’ll be sitting in a thicket of the sick.
It really doesn’t seem that big a deal.
You can get your hair done and I can hit the gym.
At last we’ll be back in society.
Of course we might be criticized as rabid or as dim.
But epithets don’t mean that much to me.
Be careful where you wipe your nose,
and look down when you sneeze.
When you get home, just wash your clothes
and spray them with Febreeze.
We’ve been stuck such a long time in the house.
But now we’re told some states have gotten through it.
Our world became a prison cell and quiet as a mouse.
I frankly don’t know how Anne Frank could do it.
by Rick Young | Apr 21, 2020 | Poem
An invisible enemy crawls
right through and over walls.
There is no way that it can be detected.
It smears its sickly path
down former hallowed halls.
And no one’s found a way to be protected.
So, now that it’s been loosed,
you might as well read Proust.
You’re going to be inside for quite some time.
Just think of isolation as much needed vacation.
Stay in. Relax. Not working’s not a crime.
When groceries get low, into the world you’ll go,
with mask and cap and goggles all in place.
Don’t worry ’bout the look; what takes you off the hook
is no one else can even see your face.
And stay away from news. You’ll only blow a fuse.
Catch up on all that music that you missed.
Pick up that old guitar. There’s many chords to barre.
Appropriately, you could learn the blues.
Then, when the world renews, put on your dancing shoes.
But know the world will never be the same.
Just give it all you’ve got. Go on and take a shot.
Surrender now would surely be a shame.
