
Saturday morning;
dawn rises on a new day.
Saturn’s history at play
beyond ancient Rome’s sway.
We wonder if he will be made to pay
for destroying Saturnalia’s gifts.
This is no Christian’s Christmas Day
created to hide his pagan ways.
This Saturnus is defective ,made of clay
which changes shape day after day.
Inside the gas giant on display
in the heavens worlds away
raging storms churn and flay
rallying followers
drawn by his magnetic field
into icy rings that circle and shield
this Titan who seeks to wield
total power over the field;
not of wheat and grass and grain,
but of institutions threatened again
by fear and hate and retribution.
That is this Titan’s contribution.
He threatens every man, woman and child.
He devours even his infant son
held in his own arms but seen as a threat
to his control and power
which he worries over hour after hour.
This defective Saturn’s trials have just begun.
We wonder if courts will justice deal
before the Titan destroys all we love
because he cannot love, but only fear.
November votes bring new beginnings.
We can choose decency with heart;
choose freedom and love, or our end is near.






FIGHTING WORDS
Poetry has fled.
Art hides in plain sight
behind clouds of flame,
beyond winds of change,
before plutocrats take the stage,
no longer waiting behind the scenes
which hide their rage.
Words have lost all meaning
when facts go unchecked
flung too fast to sustain truth
and belief in its power to right wrongs
for the weak and the poor,
tossed aside by courts which cower
fearing loss of wealth and power.
Which words are safe when lies procure
the party in power’s silent vote to score
total control of each life, each thought,
each breath threatened by dirty schemes
to pollute the earth, water and air?
Words cannot be spoken, claimed by death
of the rule of law.
No words exist to describe the depravity
some of us saw
as our words lay dying
first inside
then outside
where meaning can be lost.
Words remain frozen in heavy frost,
weighed down by cold hearts
and dead souls
seeking total control.
Freedom resides in words
which too often remain unsaid.
Words too softly spoken to wake
those asleep, escaping, all hopes dead.
Too few words of truth must compete
with an onslaught of unchecked lies.
I listen and watch, lost in thought.
I write and I plead against what we have wrought.
Poetry, I fear, carries too-little weight.
Poetry, perhaps, has waited too late
to escape the threat when so many lies
have buried the truth for power and greed.
Money has always been the creed
clothed in religion and faith
which grants God’s grace
to those who deserve to see His face
on dollar bills and hung on towers.
False gods seek our praise as they devour
a country whose best citizens
refuse to use their power to remain free,
and would rather lose their democracy.
Leave a comment
Filed under COMMENTARY, POETRY, POLITICS
Tagged as Bannon, books, courts, elon musk, facebook, Giulianni, John Thune, Judge Cannon, META, news editors, newspapers, poem, poet, poetry, Republican Party, rule of law, SCOTUS, social media, Speaker johnson, Steven Miller, trump, VANCE, WRITING, Zuckerburg