Category: poetry

Luciana

Now
as you
walk up
these steps
to your so new
resting place, do
remember us down
here on Earth who loved
you, learned from you, laughed
at your witty barbs on the sad state
of our world down here, and felt your caring
for the downtrodden. We will never forget you, for
your absence down here is a black void we’ll never fill
with another comrade so great as you were. I don’t believe
in heaven, nor do many of us, your friends, but your loss is enough
to make us all wish for a heaven, since your not being here anymore makes
our Earth more of a hell. May you find peace where, without contradiction, no matter
if the place is above or below, a state of mind, or a void of nirvana, that is still a heaven.

Fins

A
fin
seen
over the waves on a beach is a scary thing to see.

A
fin
that
has been cut off by shark hunters, though, is far more horrifying.

A
cut
from
a hunter’s knife is worse than the bite of a shark’s teeth.

A
cut
fin’s
death
to fish
without it.

Shark finning finishes sharks. No fins seen over the surface is our boon, but their doom.

Axes

One
day,
an
ax
is
to
go
smashing down
on the floor
like Pete
Townshend’s
back in the day.

But
the
ax
is
not
go-
ing
to
shatter into a hundred
tiny pieces lying
scattered all over
the stage, like Pete’s
electric instrument.

The
act
of
re-
bel-
lion
won’t
just be a
noisy affair, to
irritate the rulers of
our cruel, uncaring world.

This
axe
will
come
down
from
the
sky
and
its
sharp blade will hack
off the heads of the
guardians of the rich.

Horizons

There
are those
who think our world today is normal in this state,

when
actually,
our world today should be seen from this perspective.

Many
on the
right think all our problems should be seen this way,

but
such a
vantage point just pushes things the other way.

The left is pushed so far aside, it isn’t even seen,

and
so, the
middle’s pushed rightwards, yet still seen as the centre.

Jenga

Today’s
world’s
a game
which is
played
by fools,
teetering,
a tower
liable to
fall at any
time now.

The left
is
marginalized
as
usual.
Few, if any,
are
listening
to any of
their
dire
warnings.

The right
is
dominating
discourse
while
pretending
that
affairs
aren’t
enough
to
the
right.

The centre
pretends
to be
left,
while
inching
further
and
further
to
the
right.

Pieces
keep
being
pulled
out
without
any
regard
for
balance.

The edifice
will one day fall to the floor,
a heap of ruins we’ll have to clean up,
yet may not live to do so. There are far too
many holes in the stack as it is: let’s be careful.

Cliffs

Imagine a railroad track that ends where the bridge is out,
over a
steep
cliff
that
no one
would
ever
want to
fall off
to his
death.

People on a train
are going on that railroad track, right to the end of it.
They
don’t
seem
aware
of the
danger
that
they’re
heading
toward.

Marxists, liberals, and right-wingers
are all on that train, racing toward certain doom.
These
last
of the
three
are all
running
to the
front,
as if
wanting
to die.

The liberals are just sitting in their seats,
with a strange faith that the track will go
all
the
way
to
the
other
side
of
the
abyss.

Only the Marxists, the Leninists in particular,
are going to the back, running to jump off,
before
they
go
over
with
all of
those
fools
who
think
the
track
is safe.

Dripping

We can sweat the small stuff, enduring those tiny drops
that don’t upset too much, being so small. Yet, them being
so cold, irregular, and incessant, the irritation slowly builds

’til

you

can

not

take it anymore.

It’s like Chinese water torture: sweat will drip off your chin
as the cold drops slowly fall, tapping on your scalp. Knowing
when they are coming, you’re prepared, and they’d be bearable,

but

you

do

not

know when they will hit, so the anticipation is crazy-making.

Gold was supposed to trickle down decades ago, but it
was pyrite. The decades went by, the trickling was icy cold,
& now we’re mad, getting cut off from reality more and more,

and

no

one

is

helping us, or organizing, or showing us a way out of this mess. Each drip
may just be one drop of water, but these all add up to a lake of fire over time.
Someone, please, turn off the tap, so we can all have peace.

Funnels

There have always been
a concentrated group
of people who
will know
how
one
may
see

the wise way to go, but
how do we get all
the others out
there to
see
the
way
out

of our current trap?
There are those
to the right,
they who
can
not
see
one

thing amiss about
class conflict,
but believe
markets
to be
the
one
way
out.

Then, there are those
on the ultra-left
who are not
satisfied
unless
all
is
set
up

without any faults.
how can one
funnel
such
men
in
so

thin a space to get
us all out of
this mess
that
we
are
in?