Tag Archives: politics

GROWING THE AMERICAN GARDEN

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The soil sits compact and firm,

steady and not easily moved 

in its congress with the rotation of the earth.

Nobel in its steadfastness

yet, it is unable to grow a single bloom.

A spade dug deep in its history invades

this too taut and fearfully dark space,

to expose the weeds to light with untidy grace,

disturbing the twisted roots below.

Then, those of us with seed to sow

can bend our bodies to the task

and make a garden grow.

The more diverse the seed, I say,

the happier the birds, butterflies and bees

all agog at the variety of shapes and colors

able to arise from earth disturbed and settled

around a multitude of possibilities

stodgy soil could never anticipate.

Tight-fisted earth formed under sun and shade

is made to shift and flow with uncertainty,

a new and better garden to create.

The season of change is upon us.

We must plant before it is too late.

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FOLLOW THE MONEY

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Daybreak of hearts

darkened  by fear

turned into hate

that evil may be done

in the name of protection

of women and children

pawns in the game

run by powerful men

weighed down by coin

until they can no longer run

toward the light.

So, follow the money

into darkest night

where faces are hidden

in places forbidden

to those with sight.

Coins dropped on the way

to the safe hidden away

by PACS and dark money

counted and stored before

paying the dues

for fake ads and fake news.

Follow the money.

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GARDEN OF DEMOCRACY

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Seeds have pointed ends

and sharp edges

browned and dried at rest.

Planted by strong winds

into dark soil opened

by seeds’ thin crest.

Growth and change

know no easy kindness;

strive in fierce battles to persist.

Await mere chance to emerge in sunshine

through storms and rain

from under soil’s harsh duress.

Noblesse oblige is well and good.

It fertilizes earth to grow the seed.

But it is seed which has stood

the test of winter’s snow

to make a healthy garden grow.

Strong agents of change protect

the tender plants we sow.

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LOVING HEARTS

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A heart cannot break

when it has been given away

and held in another’s embrace,

by layers so deep, love so strong

it finds the place where it belongs

The heart can neither crack nor flake

held safely against the heart of the other,

strengthened and treasured

by steel bands and grateful hands

that strengthen not only the bond

but the heart itself.

With each giving the heart grows stronger,

fearful  and doubtful no longer,

until nothing exists

which could tear it apart.

There is nothing so strong 

as a loving heart.

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RINGSIDE

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We are all in the ring

or sitting ring-side

ready to bet, cheering and loud.

Our faces are flushed

with the lust to succeed.

It has become every nation’s creed.

The struggle brings 

too much sorrow to contain

in the single, small vessels

that we be.

It is not for me alone that I mourn;

but, for all facing hardships and doubts

only they can know and feel

like blows to the ribs, upper cuts to the jaw,

bruised to the bone,

forlorn and alone.

Have we forgotten how to be

part of a peaceful community,

of teachers and students,

of priests and congregations,

of parents and children,

of even two lovers such as we?

Or, is the struggle meant to be

single combat waged separately?

Every direction I glance I see

a fight-ring where combatants dance.

I take no comfort, feel no glee

in fisted gloves or bare-knuckled fights.

I feel every blow on my own body.

Stop building such rings

and dismantle those we see.

Or, is the betting too lucrative

and are con-men too attractive

to bring to an end

their fronting the purse

we all think we can win,

while they abscond with millions

and tell us great lies?

How could we not have learned

playing chance with fire 

means we all will get burned.

While we fight,

they win.

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HOMELESS WOMEN

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untitled women 

work the fields

ply the streets

rock the cradles

cry and weep

unnamed tears

forgotten smiles

un-styled hair

weary feet

arms akimbo

grace denied

homeless

but not heartless,

mores the pity,

where none resides

beside the curb

where hope dies

as titled women

simply pass by

and by

and by

and by

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NOVEMBER 8, 2022

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Fear is funny that way.

Sometimes it runs hot.

Sometimes it runs cold.

Sometimes it sits and cries.

Sometimes it runs and hides

inside the mouth

under the tongue

where it is held hostage,

until it bursts forth in words

which ride on unleashed breath

in gasps and gulps

but flying free across the breach

to land on other tongues

younger, stronger, more free

to speak the truth

from mouths opened wide

whose words turn into votes

that set aside liars and their lies.

Then fear, finally, subsides.

Then words can move forward

to cool the earth,

to warm the hearth,

to fill us once again

with pride.

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Haiku

I love my country

With a passion so fierce I

Weep like the willow.

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VOTE

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We were assigned to write an essay on the theme

preserving democracy for the American Legion or VFW 

contest. I forget which group sponsored the contest, it seems.

I recall the solemn moment I realized the cost of loss of democracy

as I pondered the yet-to-be-written script of how it could be done.

Democracy could be lost and its greatest strength laid askew

across our inattentive road to future growth and glory,

an old and Founding-of-America story.

As if !

As if !

I scoffed at myself as I looked around and listened to 

the soldiers, sailors and airmen recently returned from WWII.

Those who fought against fascism and for democracy over there

would never permit freedom’s loss here. They would not !

And yet !

And yet !

I could clearly see all around me the powerful need

of individuals cowered by fear of others’ success.

“Keeping up with the Joneses” had become a litany,

a passion, a way of life, that had become de rigeur.

The challenge of battles now laid aside no longer sustained the pride.

Competing to win became a holy grail.

Leagues formed for bowlers and ballers;

their boys played Little League as parents hollered.

Trophies filled up cases with virtuous wins.

Still, this was not enough to satisfy anyone.

I heard the call and response to the world all around me,

“At least I am free, white and twenty-one.”

What ?

What ?

Free, I understood. That is what America stands for, right ?

But, white ? How is that a right and why does it matter ?

Where was that coming from? Where was that fight ?

On the movie screen with John Wayne and his troops

who pushed Native people aside and onto reservations

to avoid annihilation, hiding American’s need to claim

a false superiority, to be better than someone, anyone.

For if we are all equal, none of us can be better than another.

On the television screen we  saw burning crosses held aloft

by robed and hooded Southerners hiding their sense of inferiority.

In the North the inferiority hid secretly, under false pride

that claimed no true victory over the South’s perfidy

when it refused to stay within the nation, and hurt our surety

that our Union of States could survive as equal and free

despite the legacy of enslaving people who should be free.

Viet-Nam was aflame, bombed and napalmed in our name.

Those old enough to fight and die were too young

to buy a drink or vote. Most not yet twenty-one.

Ah, I see.

Ah, I see.

And so I did not write an essay; but, a play.

Two characters with Iron Curtain names to delay

the defensive need to deny the truth I would display.

A young nephew visited his uncle in jail,

conversing through the bars of his cell,

trying to understand how it came to be his uncle

was not, and never would be, free.

The 1st. Amendment had become distorted by media,

by political ads and an opposition party

who eschewed the growing power of those formerly subdued

to salve white supremacy, and simple jealousy.

The 2d. Amendment had become distorted by the NRA and KKK;

armed to the teeth they would say is the only way

to keep America white and free as it was meant to be.

“Be careful, young nephew,” his uncle warned.

There are those who would do you harm to silence you.

“Elections no longer count, when the count is misconstrued.”

Only in the final moment, of the final scene, we knew

freedom had been lost in the USA at some time hence.

Freedom is only as strong as me and you, equals

not better than one another, Americans all.

Vote now before America falls.

It took over 60 years to see the words I put on the page

that long ago day, become reality.

The wars fought long ago never ended.

Because human beings always need to know

they are enough, though never better than another, though flawed.

They are treasured and loved more than money and profit.

America need not fall; but, you must vote for those

who recognize who you are and what you could become.

For those who see the possibility of a future

where all men, women and children are the true treasure

of a nation where all are free to engage in democracy.

Vote now. Not for the past; but, for a future that can last.

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MY REPUBLICAN DAD

ANGELO ANNARINO,SR. WITH DAUGHTER LOUISE

“I just need 11,000 votes.”

“Give me a break.”

Sounds eerily like saying to my daddy,

when I was just a wee lassie,

“I just need $5.00.”

And my Republican dad would reply,

“And I need a hole in my head!”

And that was the end to that.

Because, I had sense 

to know when the game was up,

to know I had lost,

to know I was on my own.

And because, I knew I could do

what I needed to do on my own

I’d get on with life and make it great.

I did not need fawning crowds

shouting hateful slogans aloud

at my Dad, who was right to deny

my weak-kneed pleas to ease my need

for the latest toy, candy, or cookie delight.

My Republican dad believed 

in working his way using his labor and mind

to put food on our table and a roof overhead.

He did not run scams on neighbors

nor friends, nor even total strangers.

My Republican dad, whose Democratic friends

exchanged ideas with him every day

on how to keep our nation great

kept an open mind and used it to find solutions

to unite and expand everyone’s rights

to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness;

especially, for his children and theirs.

My Republican dad would be turning in his grave.

A conscience stronger than partisanship

would not let him accept such gamesmanship.

I can hear his response to election deniers,

whining while shouting, debased town-criers,

“You talk like a man with a paper hat!”

And that, folks, would be that!

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