Curse of the Privileged Class

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: THE GREAT DIVIDE

Curse of the Privileged Class

 

The curse of the privileged class

Is that they assume privilege will last

Beyond the day after tomorrow

The grief behind the endless sorrow

Something that could only be

An eternal plague on humanity

 

The privileged class will assume

All other classes will be doomed

To fall and implode in a blast

The tragedy in which they’re cast

Gets lost in a cloud of dust

A memory that yields to rust

 

At the end of long lost day

It’s a script they would not play

An echo of a discordant song

Each note somehow seems wrong

Then it collapses in a feeling of fear

As the inevitable inevitably draws near

 

The privileged class will expire

Consumed in a burning rage of fire

Their vaunted status gone and done

All their battles lost and won

Their curse is to be forgotten

A legacy shriveled and rotten

 

The Lies of War

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: GLOBAL POLITICS (UKRAINE)

The Lies of War

 

He told you the war would be won in seven days

 

He lied

 

He told you the Ukrainian people loved

their mother Russia

 

He lied

 

He told you the invading army would be

welcomed with open arms and celebrations

the liberators at the gates

 

He lied

 

He told you the Ukrainian nationalists were

fascist Nazi’s and white supremacists

eager to provoke war

 

He lied

 

He packed a stadium with a hundred thousand

stone-faced citizens to tell them the war

was going well

 

He lied

 

At every turn ins this sordid affair

he has filled the squalid air

with the venomous lies of war

lies the people believe no more

Ballybeg of Donegal

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: LIFE SONGS

Donegal

 

If the Irish do anything at all

Better than anyone else on earth

It is to tell a story tall

In words that sing while merely speaking

To sing a song that tells a tale

That draws both laughter and tears

With a fresh pint of ale

 

Did you ever hear the story

Of the O’Donnell family in Ballybeg

County Donegal in northern Ireland?

 

It is the story of every family

A story of heartbreak and consuming sorrow

A story of triumph and compassion

A story of overcoming hardship

A story of tradition and love

 

The troubles split Ireland apart

Sending waves of conflict across the sea

Tearing at friends and families

Piercing the Irish heart

But in the end both blood and country

A culture of literature and song

A generosity of spirit prevails

Old wounds heal and all is well

For the good people of Donegal

 

(upon seeing The Aristocrats

By Brian Friel)

 

Nine More Years

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: GLOBAL POLITICS 

Nine More Years

 

Nine more years on trumped up charges

Nine more years for being Navalny

In Russia today I would be sentence

To fifteen years for writing poetry

 

The dear leader doesn’t like my verse

He’s not alone but it could be worse

He has not heard me rant

He has not heard me curse

 

I stand with Navalny

I stand with Ukraine

I believe the dear leader

Has gone thoroughly insane

 

He creates more and more martyrs

Every minute of every day

How many more will there be

Before dear leader goes away?

 

Hide under a rock

Hide in a dark deep cave

The people are good and proud

They will not be your slaves

We will stand against you

From now until the grave