by Rick Young | Dec 2, 2017 | Poem
A snake charmer,
whose room looks like a pharmaceutical junkyard,
is memorizing religion on an atrophied wireless.
"Keep pledging that speck of hatred to tomorrow,"
he repeats, while stabbing himself with a number
three pencil. Last night, it seems, he tied his friends
together by the tail and painted lurid designs
upon his leatherette sofa with India ink.
He takes this as an intense subliminal desire
to return to his homeland, but is afraid
the people of Ohio will snicker at his tattoo
unless he learns more about god.
by Rick Young | Dec 2, 2017 | Poem
There’s no refuge any more
unless your home’s a tower.
The elite just won the war.
Rich folks have all the power.
Corporate tax gifts passed the floor.
Medicare may be no more.
Billionaires who own estates
dance now behind golden gates.
They’ll drill in the arctic, too;
soon be eating caribou.
Middle class will take the hit.
Merry Christmas. Eat some shit.
Deficit receives a load
youth will pay for down the road.
Say goodbye to wildlife parks.
Load endangered onto arks.
Country can’t be great again
when the wealthy always win.
Ruling classes don’t play fair.
Word out to the poor: Beware.
