Round Numbers

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: CORONAVIRUS SERIES

 

Round Numbers

Humans are drawn to round numbers

Bicentennials and millennials

Decades and centuries

The three minute mile

Fifty ways to leave your lover

A hundred years of solitude

500 miles away from home

The first one hundred days

Top ten on the hit parade

One hundred meter dash

Ten thousand meter run

 

Two hundred thousand dead

From the novel coronavirus

Two hundred thousand humans

No longer in physical existence

Two hundred thousand mothers

Fathers sons and daughters

Uncles aunts and grandparents

Two hundred thousand doctors

Nurses farmworkers plant workers

Grocery store clerks and teachers

Two hundred thousand lovers

Loved and beloved ones

 

Are we paying attention now

Have we lost enough to care

Have we cried enough tears

Is it now too much to bear

 

Stop the destructive madness

Now that we see where it led

Toss them all overboard

Into the sea of the living dead

 

The Sacred Crow

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: VISIONS

The Sacred Crow

 

I gazed into the eyes of the crow

And saw what came to be

Days of darkness nights of fear

Catastrophe in threes

 

We tasted fruit from the poison tree

Where many fell and did not rise

The crow will always find its way

Piercing a sea of lies

 

I saw a scarred and barren land

From the eyes of the crow in flight

Trees ripped from their mother’s womb

A horrid tortured sight

 

I saw the land turn dry and crack

Cities swallowed by the sea

Smoke filled skies and burnt horizons

No place of rest to comfort me

 

The crow escapes to untouched heights

And leaves me far behind

To seek what solace welcomes me

What fate for me unwinds

 

If we measure pure intelligence

By the talent to survive

The human will long vanish

The sacred crow will thrive

 

Be more like the crow

That lives within its means

That leaves the land intact

And honors what it dreams

 

Timeline

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR

Timeline

 

Another needless death born

In a dingy smoke filled room

Murder by the men in blue

Nothing seen is nothing true

The ugly and sublime

The horrid and the kind

All things come out in time

 

The global warming hoax

An environmentalist joke

By now we all know it’s real

Does not matter how you feel

Say a prayer and make a deal

Wonder why we were so blind

Everything reveals in time

 

The myth of racial justice

A gaping wealth divide

Barren trees and fruitless skies

A long and twisted ride

Preachers spreading fantasies

Leaders telling lies

You have your facts

And I have mine

The truth comes out in time

The Lotus

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR

The Lotus

 

The beauty of the lotus flower

Lifts our spirits in the darkest hour

Calms our frayed and fragile nerves

Makes the burden of our mind less

 

In times of tragedy and death

We seek levity and jest

To lift us from our jaded view

That bears no joy or kindness

 

We turn back to the lotus

As it finds a way to float us

On the deep deep pool of sorrow

To which time and trouble bind us

 

There is beauty in the world as yet

And if we ever should forget

Just take another look around

The lotus will remind us

 

Climate Chaos

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: CLIMATE CHANGE

Climate Chaos

 

A clash of titans over the Rockies

A scourge from the western fires

A blast of cold from the northeast

Predictions are most dire

 

Wildfires in the arctic circle

Thunderstorms and drought

Hurricanes in the Atlantic

Typhoons leave no doubt  

 

The story of climate change unfolds

The pages of disaster turn

Written on the walls of prophecy

Lessons never learned

Recorded on the streets of protest

While our towns and forests burned

 

The deniers become the naysayers

Do nothing let it burn

It’s far too late to change the course

So let the pages turn

 

It almost makes sense

Until you tell it to a child

Who wonders if you’ve lost your mind

While the fires yet burn wild

 

The Magic Pill

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR:  2020 ELECTION

The Magic Pill                                                                                   

 

Nixon offered a secret plan

To end the carnage in Vietnam

 

Bush swore our taxes would be cut

He promised us no matter what

 

Politicians tell you what you want to hear

They play to your bias hatred and fear

  

So now the president has a magic pill

Just take it with water and sit real still

 

When the election is over if it goes his way

He’ll swear what he said he did not say

 

The lesson is clear if you have any sense

What a politician says is not what he meant

 

Prayers for India

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: CORONAVIRUS SERIES

Prayers for India

 

Prayers for India

Prayers for Delhi

The predator has found

A most fertile hunting ground

Poverty squalor overcrowding

It is not religion

It is not faith

It is not the will of god

It is science and mathematics

It is numbers and space

Too many people

Too few hospitals

Too little care

A draconian lockdown

Punished the poor

Without relief

Without preparation

To fight an airborne enemy

That has no politics

That has no pride or prejudice

And the people of India suffer

And perish as they do

In Rio de Janeiro and the barrios

Wherever poverty overcrowding

and superstition prevail

Bollywood is closed

The curtain has lowered

The beautiful people

In their colorful costumes

Sing and dance no more

 

Oppression

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: GEORGE FLOYD SERIES

Oppression                                                                                                     

 

Oppression is not a flash of lightning

The heavy hammer of abuse

It is not the swift slice of a sharp blade

Or the sting of pounding blow

 

Oppression is a dull throbbing ache

Always present never fading

Always building like waves of heat

 

Oppression never reaches its crescendo

With the end of day or the fall of night

 

Oppression is a constant haunting

Like the shadow of a thousand miseries

In a hospice or a funeral home

 

It is a pall that never lifts

A pain that has no remedy

A ghost in living flesh

 

To live with oppression

Is to be imprisoned without bars

In agony without relief

In perpetual apprehension

Of the days and nights ahead

 

Oppression in its purest sense

Is to be oppressor and oppressed

In an endless cycle of horror

Return to Kind

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: CLIMATE CHANGE

Return to Kind

 

Somewhere on the blue highways

Of my mind

I remember hearing this fertile valley

Was once a barren desert

 

All things return to kind

What once was will be again

The dam will give way

The river will run its course

The forest will reclaim the cities

The irrigated desert will return to sand

And we poor humans will return

Kicking and screaming like banshees

On a moonlit night

To our more natural lives

 

Our towers will topple

Civilizations decline

Earth will reclaim her majesty

In the richness of time

 

Bravado

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: CORONAVIRUS SERIES

Bravado

 

We are all subject to the laws of physics

We cannot opt out

We cannot object on moral grounds

The sun will rise

The moon will follow

Young folks reach for the sky

Old folks like fallen fruit must die

Don’t ask why

Don’t ask why

 

You can curse the stars for shining

You can purge what rests within

You can dwell in sorrow’s garden

You can argue with the wind

 

A single truth survives the ages

Upon this you can depend

The greatest lesson in this life

Comes at its very end

 

It’s the moment when you realize

A mere flash before the fall

Your courage in the face of death

Wasn’t bravery at all

 

Kanye West

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: POLITICS

Kanye West                                                                                       

 

They say you’re a genius

But I just don’t see it

If you’re a true master

Don’t act it be it

I know you can rap

But you ain’t close to the best

If you’re a stooge for the White House

You don’t pass the test

 

When you stood up to Bush

You earned political cred

But when you stood up for Donald

You earned nothing but dread

You better look at what’s happening

On the streets of the nation

Then look at who’s serving

Your race invocation

You may think you know better

You may think you know best

But there’s no bigger fool

Than Kanye West

 

Yeah you think you’re so cool

You let yourself be used

To betray your own people

Who have been much abused

You may have all the money

But you’re lesser than less

Ain’t nobody worse

Than Kanye West

 

Little Girl

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR:  VISIONS

Little Girl

 

Little girl little girl

What dreams will you dream

Will you dance in the heavens

Will you play on the team

Will you find true love

To help you along

Will you always be willing

To sing your own song

Have you set your sights

On a future of gold

Will you climb a tall mountain

Before you get old

Will you find that life

Is not quite what it seemed

Little girl little girl

What dreams will you dream

 

Little Boy

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: VISIONS

Little Boy

 

Little boy little boy

What will you be

Will you work in the fields

Will you sail on the sea

Will you run for high office

Will you march on the streets

Will you conquer an army

Will you manage defeat

Will you take what you’re given

Will you settle for less

Will you value the truth

Will your deeds be blessed

Will you still find joy

In moments of glee

Little boy little boy

What will you be

 

Old Woman

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: VISIONS

Old Woman

 

Old woman old woman

Will you look back on the years

Will you reside in yesterday

Will you dry your mournful tears

Will you search lost memories

For better times and better ways

Leave your worries behind

Let your problems fade away

Will you find the lord above

Will you move on or will you stay

Where you’re most loved

Where you’re most safe

Will you stop and take stock

Of all the things you did not say

All the stories left untold

All the debts you did not pay

When you got old and it got late

The morning light turned to gray

And you accepted sorrow’s fate

Old woman old woman

Will you look back with tears

 

Old Man

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: VISIONS

 

Old Man

 

Old man old man

What can you do

You have lived your life

You must now say adieu

Will you retreat inside

Will you push the world away

Will you plead for one last ride

One last plan to go astray

You had so many chances

To change what went wrong

But you were lost in your world

You were tossed in your song

Now you’ve made your bed and garden

It’s too late to change the end

You look back on your deeds

And the wreck you must defend

They will turn the world over

They will make the earth anew

Old man old man

What can you do

 

Young Woman

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: VISIONS

 

Young Woman

 

Young woman young woman

What path will you take

Will you bury the past

This world to forsake

Will you forgive all those

Who shook the earth to its core

Will you seek a new start

Will you open a door

Will you burn the bridge behind you

Will you bid us farewell

When you have your own children

What stories will you tell

About those who came before you

Who forgot the ones to come

Who were blind to the future

To the past deaf and dumb

What love will you harbor

What hearts will you break

Young woman young woman

What path will you take

 

Young Man

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR:  VISIONS

Young Man

 

Young man young man

Oh where will you go

What future do you see

What seeds will you sow

This world has turned inside out

You would have to be a fool

If you were not filled with doubt

Everything you see and touch

Everything you feel and know

Scattered like the dust

The way the wind blows

We have taken your world

Flipped it on its head

Due to our neglect

Millions are dead

Does it matter that we’re sorry

Does it matter we regret

We are like the lost horizon

Won’t be here to pay the debt

Young man young man

Oh where will you go

 

Faces of Covid 19

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR:  CORONAVIRUS SERIES

Faces of Covid 19

 

They are only numbers

Digital abstractions

Statistical notations

Lines on a graph

Check marks on a page

They yield no emotion

Something less than real

Until the numbers have faces

Friends and families

 

A mother from La Jolla

Her children called her Santa Marie

A gifted athlete from Chicago

Could have made the major leagues

A promising poet from Omaha

With a dream of living overseas

A grandfather from Los Angeles

Do we mourn the elderly?

A golden child from down the street

Who’ll never know the vagaries

Of life and love and victories

Stolen by this cursed disease