Apocalypse Nine

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: LIFE SONGS

Apocalypse Nine

 

The scorched earth

The barren earth

The ravaged land

The cracked earth

The land that became a roaring river

The poisoned earth

The land swallowed by the sea

The exploding earth

The land of endless storms

 

The horsemen are joined by five more

The wait and watch for seven signs

 

The signs are in the air

The signs are in the cosmos

The signs are everywhere

The gods of mercy have fled

The gods of destruction rise

 

The polar icecaps melt

The towers turn to babble

Fire brings the night to day

The enlightened lose their way

The church becomes the law

The streets are filled with blood

The flame of freedom extinguishes

The days of light are done

 

Apocalypse nine is counting

A wave of executions

Apocalypse eight is falling

The rage of humans rising

Apocalypse seven is waiting

The people gather arms

Apocalypse six is looming

The threat of nuclear war

Apocalypse five declaring

Freedom falls across the land

Apocalypse four is seething

Democracy be damned

Apocalypse three is pushing

Starvation in a land of plenty

Apocalypse two approaches

Surrounded we surrender

Apocalypse one

Done. 

 

Death Songs

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: LIFE SONGS

 

Death Songs

 

The Lakota, Cheyenne and Navajo

All sing their songs of death

At the hour of the reckoning

To welcome eternal rest

 

Big Foot sang at Wounded Knee

Frozen on the barren land

Black Kettle sang at Sand Creek

Where he made his final stand

 

As the sun sets on our varied lives

We seek a vision that will please

As basic as the call to prayer

That bends us to our knees

 

Dickinson sang her song of death

Praising nature and painting dreams

Freud sang his song of death

Its final notes neither heard nor seen

Mozart sang his requiem

Until it placed him in his grave

All the earthly saints sang prayers

One last soul to save

Whitman at the appointed hour

Sang of self and lovely flowers

Yeats sang of lovers lost

A lament of such a woeful cost

 

We sing our songs of soulful sorrow

Uncertain what will be tomorrow

But on the hour of our last day

We yield to bow our heads and pray

We sing of things we might have done

Battles lost and battles won

We dive into the deep unknown

Not knowing whether we have grown

Enough to make it right

We sing so long, farewell, goodnight

 

Eighteen Dead

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: CORONAVIRUS SERIES

Eighteen Dead

 

If eighteen died at the hands of

Middle East zealots

They would mark the day

Build a monument and

Hold a three-day vigil

 

If eighteen died at the hands of

A MAGA militia

They would summon

The FBI and put the National

Guard on alert

 

If eighteen died at the hands of

A serial killer

We’d be greeted by national

Media coverage 24-7

Survivor interviews and

Expert speculation

 

If eighteen died by a natural

Disaster the nation would be

In perpetual mourning

 

Eighteen died of covid this month

(in our little corner of the world)

And nobody cared because

Covid does not exist

It ceased to be when the

Cameras turned away

 

Po Runs Dry

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: RIVER SERIES

Po Runs Dry

 

The waters that feed an ancient land

That fuel the farms and vineyards

From lush valleys to rolling hills

From heavenly gardens to fields of plenty

The river that has carved its way

Through granite mountains and forests

That has given a people life

In all its splendor

 

The River Po is running dry

And we know why

We all know why

 

Millennia of running waters

Millennia of winding through the earth

Millennia of streams and tributaries

Feeding a land of thirst

 

The River Po is running dry

And we know why

We all know why

 

How long before the whole of Italy

The land that gave us Dante

The land that nourished a great religion

A land rich in wine and fine cuisine

A land of superb architecture

A land of philosophy and culture

Alas becomes a barren wasteland

 

The River Po is running dry

And we know why

We all know why

 

Crash (Climate Change)

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: CLIMATE CHANGE

Crash

 

The bright blue sky is falling

Bits and pieces of stars and comets

Come crashing to the ground

There is no place to run

The planet’s come unwound

Hide your head in terror

Do not make a sound

 

This world’s become unstable

Great towers crashing down

Get lost if you are able

Never ever to be found

The cities are all minefields

Seek refuge in the towns

 

Your prayers cannot help you

The cops are not around

The bright blue sky is gone now

Transformed to murky brown

The hope you had is buried

Prometheus is bound

 

The Gift

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: LIFE SONGS

The Gift

 

I shall make the perfect gift

To bestow upon this world

A human to replace us

Before it comes unfurled

 

A being that’s impervious

To the myriad problems we must face

Like climate change and nuclear war

Tempting the end of the human race

 

There will be no pandemics

To purge the weak and poor

With death itself in question

We’ll have no need for war

 

Still I wonder at the consequence

Of eliminating human flaws

Life without need or fear

A civilization without laws

 

Is this a gift or curse?

For the poet shall be lost

To save humans from themselves

Will come at a great cost

 

Don't Forget Me

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: GLOBAL POLITICS

 

Don’t Forget Me

 

I was beaten without cause

I was battered without reason

Because of who I am and where I live

My home was leveled to the ground

My people scattered like dust

To the four corners of the globe

 

We pleaded through tears for help

And help came from everywhere

With kindness and good will

Giving us precious hope

 

Now the outside world has moved on

The cameras no longer film

The state of our daily misery

Now we suffer alone

The river of help runs dry

And our hope begins to fade

 

I am Ukraine

And I am in imminent danger

Of being wiped from the earth

I am in danger of disappearing

Without notice or care

My pleas fall on deaf ears

Yet still I plea

I am here

Do not forget me

 

Marching Backwards

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: POEMICS

Marching Backwards

 

Marching backwards into history

Marching to reclaim lost rights

Marching to reverse reconstruction

Marching for a woman’s right to choose

Marching for a black man’s right to vote

Marching for a safe and civil society

Marching for freedom of speech

Marching for a free press

Marching to end homelessness

Marching to feed the poor

Marching for the right to organize

Marching for equal pay

Marching to end slave labor

Marching for migrant rights

Marching to stop mass murder

Marching to end the war

 

We have marched this march before

So many years, so many times

So often that our feet are sore

We marched to push progress forward

But it seems progress is a revolving door

Two steps back, one step fore

We cannot but ask what is it for?

Each time you ask we give you more

The time has come to measure gains

Instead we’re marching back again

 

War Zone

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: POEMICS

 

War Zone

 

A nation that watches dozens

Of its people killed by gunfire

Doesn’t need to go to war

We live in a war zone

We are in perpetual war

We alone in this world

Allow such brutal carnage

We alone do nothing to stop it

 

Are we more impassioned than

The people of other nations?

Witness the Paris uprisings

Witness the protests of London

Witness the riots of Berlin

 

Are we more violent than other nations?

Witness the Spanish Inquisition

The War of the Roses

The rise of the Third Reich

The revolutions of Latin America

 

No and no again

We are no different than others

But we have one thing

Other nations do not have

The second amendment

Unfettered access to guns

And weapons of war

Period

 

Pointing Fingers (January 6)

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: INSURRECTION

Pointing Fingers

 

Fingers were made to point

(and grab and hold by the neck)

Those who attacked the capitol

Did a whole lot of finger pointing

They pointed at the vice president

Who refused to do Trump’s bidding

They pointed at the cops

For standing in their way

They pointed at all of congress

For upholding their solemn oath

They pointed at the Democrats

For being Democrats

They pointed at Republicans

For not being Trump enough

They pointed at the media

For bending their twisted truths

They pointed at Antifa

For not joining their ranks

They pointed at every human

Within the range of their rage

They pointed at everyone

Except the one who told them

It was their patriotic duty

To march on the capitol

To stop the proceedings

By any and all means

At any and all costs

The one who said

I’ll be there with you

But he wasn’t there

He sat in the White House

Watching it all go down

In vivid color on television

The one who never asked

(or never cared to ask)

What if they do kill

Nancy Pelosi and Ocasio-Cortez?

What if they do hang Mike Pence?

The one who sat and watched

And never cared enough

To lift his little finger

 

D Day

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: WORLD HISTORY

D Day

 

On this day so long ago

We united nations against a foe

So ghastly and deadly great

It put in question the world’s fate

With Russia’s help we turned the tide

And sent the Nazis for a ride

Straight to hell

 

We reached for greatness then

And the world with us

If only we had stayed the course

If only we had stayed true

To our mission as a beacon

Of justice and liberty

To all of humanity

 

We were that nation once

A nation all people looked up to

A nation that kept its promise

That promoted democracy

That stood for human rights

Above strategic gain

Above resources and wealth

Above all else

 

We can be that nation again

Let every day be D Day

Let it begin with Ukraine

Let it begin with a world united

Against oppression and brutality

 

Missiles over Moscow

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: UKRAINE

Missiles over Moscow

 

He pretends not to care

He pretends it does not matter

He can do as he pleases

He’s as mad as the hatter

Russia fires missiles at Kiev

As if there are no consequences

(like North Korea firing missiles

Into the Sea of Japan)

One must wonder why and how

The madman would respond

To missiles over Moscow

 

He threatens the western world

With consequences most severe

A blow that would affect the DOW

If missiles were delivered here

But promises have been made

And soon it will be now

One wonders what would follow

Missiles over Moscow

 

We must hope it does not happen

A world at war would be at stake

Devastation would engulf us all

Gods of mercy would forsake

But we would know who is to blame

The madman in his bunker

And we shall curse his name

Missiles over Moscow

Mr. Putin take a bow

 

Exclusion

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: GLOBAL POLITICS

Exclusion

 

We excluded three sovereign nations

(Cuba, Venezuela, Nicaragua)

From the Summit of the Americas

As if we were the only ones that count

As if we are the sole salvation

Now Mexico refuses to attend

To protest this deviation

From common diplomatic protocol

The politics of deprivation

The policies of the Cold War

A foolish innovation

 

The law of exclusion is never wise

If you wish to inspire change

To alter the system you must devise

A strategy to rearrange

The dynamics of relations

 

The Pendulum Swings

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: LIFE SONGS

The Pendulum Swings

 

Yesterday was clear today is dull

The empty cup will soon be full

The balance of nature is a precious thing

Inevitably the pendulum swings

 

Bad luck is balanced with the good

Good fortune is tempered with the bad

One day you’re teeming with happiness

The next day you’re woefully sad

 

The deities have no favorites

It’s the same for all sentient beings

This year you’re on top of the world

Next year the pendulum swings

 

So have pity for those who are down

Understand that it might have been you

For in this life you’re walking in fashion

In the last there were holes in your shoes

 

It’s a matter of random chance

Rejoice when the angels sing

For as certain as lovers in France

We will see the pendulum swing

 

Kokesh Wantanabe

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: LIFE SONGS

Kokesh Wantanabe

 

There is no murder in Kokesh

A man is found on the streets

A sword implanted in his torso

The tip of his little finger severed

Dead but not murdered

There is no murder in Wantanabe

 

A man is burned like charcoal

His family is threatened

He is indebted to the mob

He leaves behind no note

His shame vanishes

His reputation is restored

Wantanabe justice

There is no crime in Wantanabe

 

There is no rape in Kokesh

A woman is found in an alley

Her clothing torn

Her undergarment ripped

from her body

She has nothing to report

There is no rape in Wantanabe

 

In Kokesh Wantanabe

Nothing is as it appears

There is no murder because

There are no murderers

There is no crime because

There are no criminals

There is no rape because

There are no rapists

 

In Kokesh Wantanabe

The people are happy and free

Who are these people

If not you and me?