The Aggrieved (for Haiti)

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: REPARATIONS

The Aggrieved (Haiti)

 

The people of Haiti are much aggrieved

The price of reparations grows

The French extorted a King’s ransom

The greater costs we’ll never know

 

The American government took a turn

Exploiting the fledgling nation

Powerful countries will never learn

The intrinsic sin of occupation

 

Time has come to settle debts

For all the wrongs that we have done

The natural resources we have stolen

At the barrel of a gun

 

Why not begin with Haiti?

Let us treat them as our friends

By investing in their future

By an act of kindness make amends

 

Buffalo Killer

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: POEMICS

Buffalo Killer

 

In the latter half of the 19^th century

They killed buffalo to ensure that

The wandering tribes of the Great Plains –

The Lakota the Cheyenne the Blackfoot –

Would not survive

 

In the early 21^st century

A racist killer travels to Buffalo

To kill people with dark complexions

To make room for white folk

 

Who would have guessed?

White people – who own more real estate

Than they could ever use –

Need more room

 

White people – who have more power

Than they could ever abuse –

Need more power

 

The buffalo killers were instruments of evil

The Buffalo killer is the same

 

Somehow somewhere

(Make America Great Again)

The killer got the message

That this was how you make

The world safe for white people

 

The most disturbing thing is:

He is not the only one

And they all have guns

 

Replacement Theory

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: POEMICS

Replacement Theory

 

The “native born” are rising

Righteous indignation in their blood

Fear and trepidation of other faces

Come to take their places

In the high crime neighborhoods

In the rat-infested brownstones

In all the long-hour low-wage jobs

In the non-union labor market

In the slum cities with lead pipes

In the homes of industrial waste

On the reservations of pervasive poverty

where the real native born live

 

The “real” Americans are afraid

They’re coming to take our places

We must stop them at the border

We must stop them at the ballot box

We must stop them at the schools

We must end the free rides

that let them think they belong

We must stop their procreation

before they poison the American way

We are the genuine Americans

and we will not be replaced

 

Zarathustra

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: LIFE SONGS

Zarathustra

 

The leader who wanted no followers

The teacher who disdained students

The preacher without a flock

The writer without readers

The man who stood alone

The individual who marked a path

Defined his own future

Stuck true to his ways

Never wavered never strayed

Embraced symbolism rejected symbols

Acknowledged the part he played

His vast mind held such infinity

That it embodied divinity

 

The father of modern philosophy

He condemned a generation of intellect

To a never-ending spiral of decline

A celebration of the sublime

A moment beyond time

His flame sparked a fire

That destroyed great empires

Only to wallow in the mire

Of eternal contemplation

A final resignation

In defeat

 

Black Hole

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: LIFE SONGS

 

Black Hole

 

There’s a black hole

100 million times larger than the sun

at the center of our galaxy

It is proven

There are photographs

We have recorded its existence

We have therefore witnessed

the end of all there is

within our field of knowledge

We have recorded our demise

One wonders what becomes of

All we know and love

What becomes of Shakespeare and Monet?

What becomes of Whitman and Yeats?

What becomes of Einstein and relativity?

What becomes of Hendrix and Morrison?

What of Billie Holiday and Janis Joplin?

What of Gabriel Garcia Marquez?

What of Steinbeck and McCarthy?

What of Eliot and Dickinson?

What of Hugo and Voltaire?

What of architecture and physics?

What of science and technology?

Have we created monuments to

our own experience only to see

it all swept away in the fulcrum

of a mysterious black hole?

Yes.  Afraid so. 

 

Final Tally

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: CORONAVIRUS SERIES

Final Tally

 

It’s not over but the death toll winds down

Soon we will not count the covid dead

Soon the dead will just be dead

And the final tally will be recorded

 

Over a million Americans

North of the Mexican border

More than half over the age of sixty-five

Disproportionate among the poor

Among the black and Latino

Among the native population

 

The tally is tragically low

Multiply by two or three or more

The unrecorded dead will outnumber

The recorded dead by a large margin

 

Yet do not fret for they were old

Do not long mourn for their

Remaining years were short

Do not look back with regret

For they were burdens on their families

Burdens on their friends and loved ones

Burdens on all society

 

We cannot say so now

We cannot say so tomorrow

But the day will come

When we dismiss our sorrow

With the knowledge that the dead

Were mostly old and feeble

They were of less value

That those who survived

In the final tally it is

Survival of the fittest

 

Resurrecting a Dictatorship

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: WORLD DEMOCRACY

Resurrection of a Dictator

 

The Philippines has a rich history

Of dictatorship from Ferdinand Marcos

To the wannabe Rodrigo Duterte

Now the nation yields to the appeal

Of law and order with an iron fist

The return of the Marcos regime

 

The people fear the people’s rule

They yearn the power of brute force

The people sacrifice their own voices

Give up their desire for freedom

Toss aside their civil liberties

Give them order on the streets

Give them security and peace

Though it cost them justice

Though it negates all rights

Though in the end it will produce

An even greater upheaval of disorder

 

Let others deal with democracy

Let others choose their own fate

The Philippines will return to

The evil they well know

The resurrection of a dictator

A future of oppression

 

Mourn for them

Take pity on them

For this much is true:

They know not what they do

 

The Dictator's Demise

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: UKRAINE

The Dictator’s Demise

 

To start a war of choice

Is neither virtuous nor wise

The end of the war will come

With Vladimir Putin’s demise

 

I would not advocate a killing

Assassination I would not advise

But how many lives would be saved

With Vladimir Putin’s demise?

 

His brutality is legendary

He leaves a trail of lies

Who among us would shed a tear

With Vladimir Putin’s demise?

 

If you saw into his soul

When you looked into his eyes

Would you protest? Would you cry?

At Vladimir Putin’s demise?

 

Victory Day

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: UKRAINE

Victory Day

 

There will be no victory parade

Not in Moscow or Ukraine

Your economy is collapsing

Your forces are beyond strained

There will be no victory parade

 

There will be no celebration today

Your people know you’ve gone insane

You’re alone in a tower of stone

Your hold on power is on the wane

There will be no celebration today

 

There will be no victory parade

Hopes are dashed ambitions fade

You have lost your sense of balance

Forget all the plans you’ve made

There will be no victory parade

 

There will be no shouts of joy today

Your commanders have run away

They know you’re days are numbered

If you read minds you’d be afraid

There will be no shouts of joy today

 

There will be no victory parade

You must know it deep inside

You have lost this brutal war

You can sense the turning tide

There will be no victory parade

Azovstal

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: UKRAINE

Azovstal (Ukraine)

 

Trapped beneath the surface

In a brutal fight for their mortal lives

All hope for relief waning

It is a struggle to survive

 

Russia loses another general

Putin cries it is not fair!

But there’s a price for bald aggression

Leave the cub, kill the bear

 

It is a portrait in pure courage

Beneath the surface of the earth

Fighting back the death machine

Leaves a measure of what they’re worth

 

They fight against all odds

They fight when hope grows thin

They fight on even knowing

It is a battle they cannot win

 

Is there a miracle in store for them?

Is there something we have not heard?

If there something we can do for them

Give the order, say the word

 

Losing Democracy

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: WORLD DEMOCRACY

Losing Democracy

 

Every nation that has lost democracy

Never saw it coming

Every nation that wants democracy

Knows how hard it is to gain it

 

Losing democracy begins with the idea

That it can’t happen here

That our press is too established

That our institutions are too strong

That our courts are too honorable

That we’ve held our values too long

 

We take democracy for granted

We fail to protect the right to vote

We allow parties to betray principles

We turn our backs on treason

 

Out of anger and desperation

We elect autocrats and traitors

We watch as they overturn elections

We watch as they expunge voters

We listen to their propaganda

We believe their lies

 

Losing democracy is easy

Protecting democracy is hard

Restoring democracy is harder still

 

Escalation

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: UKRAINE

 

Escalation

 

We are cautioned against escalation

It’s time we warned the other side

You can’t destroy a sovereign nation

You can’t negotiate genocide

 

There’s not enough in your cupboards

And there’s too much on your plate

You will bankrupt your whole nation

If you dare choose to escalate

 

So gather up your weapons

Take your soldiers back home

If you want to build your empire

You will build it all alone

 

You have threatened the whole world

With a nightmare of war

But the greatest of all nightmares

Is the nightmare that is yours

 

So pull out while you still can

Admit you’ve met your mate

Immortal history will understand

It’s the only move left: de-escalate

 

The Madness of War

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: GLOBAL POLITICS (UKRAINE)

 

Madness of War

 

Have I gone mad?

Have I awakened in another time?

With all the comforts of the modern world

We still endeavor war

What madness is this if not

A sickness of the soul?

We have machines that carve

Realities out of silicon

Enough food to feed all sentient beings

On an overpopulated planet

We have the means to settle Mars

Wealth and fame in ample supply

Art and culture to satisfy the masses

Mass and instant communications

The ability to live beyond our years

Yet we still engage in war

The brutal barbarity of war

The endless cycle of war

The futile exercise of mass destruction

Imposed on innocent people

Have I gone mad?

Then let me sleep a hundred years

And awaken when there is no war

 

A Mother's Son

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: GLOBAL POLITICS (UKRAINE)

 

 

A Mother’s Son

 

They pretend there are no casualties

They tell their people not to mourn

We are welcomed there as heroes

Our enemies are scorned

 

But a mother knows a deeper truth

The moment her child is no more

Thousands of needless tragedies

From a pointless brutal war

 

Where oh where is my child?

Where is my darling boy?

Now begins the endless sorrow

The end of all our joy

 

Tell us the truth Mister Putin

Tell us the whys and wherefores

The reasons behind the madness

Of your dirty little war

 

And where oh where is my lovely child?

Where is my darling boy?

Now begins the endless sorrow

The end of all our joy

 

The Great Healer

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: LIFE SONGS

The Great Healer

 

Two hundred years of toxic waste

Pumped into our atmosphere

It is more than we can stomach

But less than what we fear

Destruction so unthinkable

It almost seems unreal

The wounds that we inflict

The earth will one day heal

 

We may call it an act of god

Or the turning of the wheel

It is a fact of life on earth:

Mother nature heals

 

Our bodies are as the earth

Each ache and pain we feel

Will guide us to the remedies

And allow ourselves to heal

 

You may call it an act of god

Or the turning of the wheel

It is a fact of life on earth:

Mother nature heals

 

Nature is the healer

Of all things great and small

From the forest to the butterfly

Nature soothes it all

It has no moral compass

There is no wrong or right

When something goes awry

It shines a healing light

 

We may call it an act of god

Or the turning of the wheel

It is a fact of life on earth:

Mother nature heals

 

Putin's Mistress

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: GLOBAL JUSTICE (UKRAINE)

 

Putin’s Mistress

 

Alina is young and beautiful

She is literally half his age

Taking away her money

Would trigger Putin’s rage

But consider the alternative

He hides his wealth with her

We sanction all the oligarchs

With the hope it will deter

Yet we fear to punish Alina

For the trouble it would stir

 

To hell with Putin’s mistress

To hell with consequence

Take a look at those in Mariupol

Your patience will be spent

Let her swear to cut all ties

With the madman of the North

What was his becomes hers

As she sets a fresh new course

 

He will not see his children

He’ll never see his love

It’s the price that he must pay

For spilling innocent blood