Category Archives: POETRY

EXAMINATION OF CONSCIENCE

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How easily done depends

on the sinner and sin done that day.

No “ I lay me down to sleep”

before this Catholic child closed her eyes.

An examination of conscience, 

a deep and complete review 

of my sins committed that day, as I prayed

in true contrition for my sins; and a promise

to make restitution to all I had harmed

in my self-centered, humanly-corrupted way.

Only then, could forgiveness be petitioned

and God swayed. Sister told me so in class.

Father told me so in the dark confessional.

I await an examination of conscience by all

who voted for MAGA  entranced and enthralled

by promises of heavenly and earthly reward

for allowing hate to invade and invoke

the souls of nation recently made awoke

by African-Americans and women who showed

they were equally great to any American.

Make America Great Again only meant

make America white again.

And my church paved the way.

Her misogyny always ready to deprive

women of any control over 

the length of their skirts,

the choice to love or escape 

abuse in any man’s embrace,

manage their reproductive health,

choose or excuse another’s hate.

Abortion became the rallying cry

to bring sinners off their knees and to the polls

to vote for the liars who played priests like fools.

There is no place for judgment or blame.

Sinners all, we play the same game.

There is a need for an examination of conscience,

for restitution to a nation’s sacred tenets defamed

by such reckless, sincere but sinful moves.

Now, priests and pastors see the error of their ways

as they accompany immigrants to hearings

to protect them from MAGA misrule?

The MAGA the churches helped elect

is not a surprise. And, it remains a sin to be

examined deeply, and completely reviewed.

I await the results of such a self-examination.

I await the restitution to be completed.

I await the apology for distorting Christian theology.

I await the chance to forgive, wholeheartedly.

I know my church is only human.

If only it could remember that truth.

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HEAVEN ON EARTH

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I have no knowledge of Heaven.

I have never been there,

except in dreams.

One thing I do know.

It must be a place where I

am surrounded by goodness,

fairness, compassion

and loving kindness

all of the time.

Heaven is the type of space

where hate has no place.

The sign in my yard

declares it to be so.

But, as we all know,

My selfish concerns sometimes show.

Creating a heaven on earth

may be an impossibility

because of my fragility

and lack of humility.

My human state has a dearth

of courageous purity.

Yet, still, I shall try to create

Heaven on Earth 

as a constant state.

The lack of goodness surrounds me

all too often these cruelty-laden days.

Kindness is the only way to delay

the triumph of evil over good.

I ask all those in my neighborhood

to join my effort, feeble though it be.

Any small kindness is stronger than cruelty.

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BEES

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Bees have taken over the garden.

their liveliness competes

with slovenly flight of flies,

flies that bite, mercilessly.

Bees never sting me.

They simply move aside

as I weed and prune.

Then move back into the space

I have vacated.

We dance together

in harmony, the bees and I.

There is no waltzing with flies.

I perform a jig

to avoid their biting touch.

I love the bees.

The flies? Not so much.

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THE DEEP SLEEP

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Words fail to awaken on the page

when words fail.

Words dreamlike fight rage

in nightmarish schemes

when words fail.

Before Liberty shut her eyes,

and with despairing cries,

fell into freedom’s now-unsafe harbor

words gave us wings to fly

and above all troubles soar.

Now, words shut down

as they are shot down

as all around us words are bound

with hateful cruelty

demanding fealty

to lying thieves

upending beliefs

in a common humanity.

It is sheer insanity

and words fail to do it justice.

Lower courts words fall before SCOTUS’s lust 

for false security, the only surety

that this is how nations fall into the dustbin of history.

Words are buried so deep

they too soon fall asleep

to escape the pain of obscurity.

That the people rise

is no surprise.

Whose words will act as guide

to peaceful resolution

and a safe conclusion

to those shoveling dirt into our eyes

and blinding us to truths that must not subside

into a deep sleep

to avoid seeing those who weep?

Who will speak now?

Is anyone still awake, still woke?

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4TH.OF JULY, 2025

Photo by Brendon Spring on Pexels.com. Read the full text of THE NEW COLOSSUS, (partially quoted below)by Emma Lazarus and inscribed on the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor.

Today is my funeral.

I have always been myself.

everyone else was taken.

I had become a fossil.

So many layers of sediment

have built up over time

that I

am hard as rock.

Too soon

It has become 

too hard

to remain human.

Especially, when monsters

roam the earth with heavy feet

in lockstep with one another.

They stand atop 

the crumbling rock and pray.

They say

that they

are God’s representative

on this dying earth

to show all the way

to greater days.

We were already pretty great,I say.

I thought we were stronger than they.

I thought they could not

make me, me, me ! their prey.

Yet, on this day we celebrate my birth,

I die during parades

of those who march behind 

school bands playing my songs.

A Statue of Liberty drone-scape

dots the night-time sky

above Red-White-and Boom

crowds cheering while immigrants die.

De-naturalized, de-refugeed

de-citizenized.

No irony there? 

How can the crowds

not realize I am dead.

They are cheering at my funeral.

After all is said,

I am done.

Too few mourners attend.

They have been forced to hide.

Even the Fourth Estate

has crumbled before my eyes,

its voices silenced, 

without enough pride nor ratings

to turn the tide of my demise.

Perhaps it is a Celebration of Life

which once was, but is no more.

Can you bring me back from the dead?

Can you resurrect what I stood for?

“Send these, the homeless,

tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp

beside the golden door.”

You can still speak these words.

you can still act on my behalf,

on behalf of liberty itself.

This. This. This! I sincerely implore.

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WEEDS

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I love every root and branch

and bud and leaf and flower

holding tight potential

of their power

to change the earth

to a thing of beauty.

I even love the weeds,

especially the weeds

who grow between the cracks

in spaces where it seems

all nourishment and bounty lacks.

Weeds like me who do not match

the temper of the garden crowded

with well-trained and tended

seedlings following the garden pattern.

Such weeds seek light despite

the darkness hidden from view

which holds them tight

as they struggle and wage war

against the forces of cement

paving the way for others meant

to get ahead and reach their goal.

Weed’s only goal is to survive.

And yet weeds seem to thrive

when droughts abound

and heavy rains drown

roots tenderly planted

by those in charge

killing gardens which once delighted

and now appear blighted.

Weeds persist as they resist

the easy way, no easy prey

for those who grow bouquets

not for their own intrinsic value,

but to pick and tie with ribbon

that they may tie down the recipient

to whom they are given,

happy not to have to

deal with weeds.

Weeds are stronger than they.

Weeds survive the darkest days.

A world without weeds

would be a sorry place, indeed.

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WHAT’S NEXT ?

Photo by Mikhail Nilov on Pexels.com

Organizing is agonizing.

Perhaps this is why 

so few even try.

Door to door

volunteers implore

a moment of your time.

Clipboards held close

to register you to vote,

and finally take a stand

on what matters to you.

Citizenship is not exciting.

there are no trophies awarded

for showing up to vote.

Time spent is the only fee

to stand in line and show I.D.

You get what you pay for

but so much more a say for

a government you choose

to serve your every need.

Then why must volunteers plead

for your attention, as they speed

to meet deadlines for signatures

to place a choice on a ballot.

Does any of it matter?

Look around you now.

And what you see, I vow,

will bring you to your knees.

Too long have you ignored

the politics of greed.

Register then vote

in every single election.

Believe me when I say

voting is your only protection.

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MY MOTHERS TAKE TO THE STREETS

Angela Abbruzzi (Abbruzzese) Annarino, age 16, at her high school graduation from Curtis High School, Staten Island, NY, 1940.

“Her money is just as green as mine,”

my mother told the clerk who passed over

the African-American woman waiting

at the counter before we arrived.

“She was here before us, after all.”

The clerk then moved beyond us 

to a white woman who had just arrived.

My mother went to her side 

and told her politely,

“You must wait your turn,” 

to the woman’s surprise.

All commerce stopped 

at that counter

on that day.

And my mother taught me 

what I think of today.

Always speak up at injustice.

Always seek fairness for all.

Always let your voice be heard.

Always ask for others to join your cause.

Never leave anyone standing aside.

Never be afraid to act with pride.

Today, hundreds of thousand of women

such as my mother are on our streets

in thousands of protests 

for justice

for fairness

for democracy

for our pride

as Americans

whose strength resides

not in military strength

but in the Bill of Rights

threatened openly by a fool

who like all fools

thinks he is king

This fool says

Anyone who protests

his $45 million birthday parade

will face “very heavy force.”

He never met my mother !

He will today.

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D-DAY TODAY

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I learned of D-Day from newsreels

 shown in between double-features

at the Saturday morning movies

which cost a quarter

at our local theatre. 

I learned of D-Day listening

at the feet of my father

hidden under the kitchen table

where Daddy spoke with buddies

who went to war with him

after years of childhood friendship.

I learned of D-Day in school

where we studied WW II,

and ignored the study of Viet-Nam,

while fellow students were drafted

to go fight a different war.

Korea was seldom mentioned 

anywhere but among the men

like my cousin who survived the fight.

I learned of D-Day from movies

like OVERLORD, and later,

SAVING PRIVATE RYAN.

But, those images had already been ingrained

on the bank of memories lodged in my brain.

Images of certain death

where the words “last ditch effort”

were not mere metaphor, but a lesson to

never make war, nor allow it to cross our shore.

Today is D-Day, not in reverent remembrance,

but as a last-ditch call for the war

that we face against crony capitalism,

corruption, Putin international mobsters

posing as politicians; heads of national security,

homeland security, and even presidents.

Greed brought war within our shores.

This is our D-Day hidden inside fake news,

and Project 2025, and a budget reconciliation

package too large to read or report upon,

Too quickly pushed through by enemies

of state we call Republicans,

but who are nazis manning bunkers

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called The Great Wall like the one 

our fascists try to build  along our southern border.

To keep brown people out? Or keep us in?

Is America becoming a giant camp

concentrating those exercising free speech,

free movement and all dissent beneath the thumb

of authoritarian diatribe and power, making us numb

and willing to cooperate with endless hate?

I honor those who once fought to save the world

and keep it free from hate and bigotry,

and create a fair economy which served us all.

I see the last ditch in my mind with no need to recall.

It lives on every street, in every neighborhood,

in every school board meeting, and City Hall;

in governor’s mansions and courts of law.

It is still alive these many years

and brings anger along with tears

burning the back of my throat

as I mourn those who breached the fascist wall

and those whose bodies I imagine afloat

off Omaha and Utah Beaches, and now, in our cities.

And I remember, as if it is today. It is. Such a pity.

Community members clash with ICE, other federal officers, Minneapolis police, and other state officers as officials raid Las Cuatro Milpas in Minneapolis, Minnesota Tuesday, June 3, 2025. (Photo by Nicole Neri/Minnesota Reformer)

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THE AMERICAN SIN

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The sins of the nation 

are visited upon its citizens.

We shouted long and hard

until bullets dropped

on Jacksonville and Kent State.

And that war stopped amid shouts

“Make war no more !”.

War must be stopped at every border

to end the slaughter

of its sons and daughters.

“Make war no more”

the children shouted

barefoot and flowered

and fought the greed

in second-hand shops 

and public gardens

and programs to up-lift those trampled

by endless war which still continued

because it is never enough

to halt the greed of those in power

hidden under rocks with prejudice

and hate who think themselves great

and lie to themselves, and us, hour by hour

smiling through games they create

to keep us all entertained

chasing dreams of American idols

with sports and drink 

gambling on undermined dreams

that can only come true 

for a celebrated few

who are told to take 

whatever they need

at our expense,  

and watch our liberties lost

while sitting on their fence.

We have become country-less

within our own  borders

as war is made, now against us.

And, the world goes on

as our nation dies 

snuffed out under a blanket

of base-less lies.

Greed destroys and religion belies

so long as it gains larger roofs,

and takes over and strafes

those sitting in its pews

praying with true intent

“make war no more”. 

A nation once thought heaven-sent

has lost its religion to endless greed

and our only lament 

is the cost of goods?

“It’s the economy, stupid” 

no longer applies, if it ever did

except to pretend their actions

are for our own good.

It has not and never has been.

Great Pirates and Robber Barons 

never recognize borders

when committing their sins.

Native Americans and those we enslaved

are  always attacked for

showing us the truth.

Gaining wealth is not the sin.

Greed is our greatest sin.

We must stop it on the borders

without and within.

Greed shored up with power

is the story of the hour.

Even those afraid to wake

are now learning

what the woke always

knew to be true.

The greedy care only

about themselves, 

not me, and not you.

We end where we begin,

mired by our own sin.

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