The Mother of Exiles lifts her lamp high above the shore.
Showing the world the open, golden door
which does not close on the rich, nor on the poor.
Greatness lies just beyond it where
no storied pomp, nor propaganda can close a door
where freedom reigns instead of princes and kings;
despite the mean-spirited ads, rallies, rants and roar.
The huddles masses of those who came before
yearning to be free are just like you and me.
Together, we immigrants to a foreign shore
watch not the dismantling of the door,
as we watched the destruction of the East Wing;
but, the boards of hate and fear nailing it shut
wondering what an AI fascist future may bring.
Meanwhile, MAGA boasts and laughs and struts.
All that now remains is a frame and lintel
on which voters hopes patiently hang.
And, those seeking safety on American shores
are hunted and locked up by those who fear and hate,
whose violence has been unleashed
as it has been many times before.
A nation built using violence to seize its manifest destiny
none-too-soon learned to use restraint;
amended a constitution, and regulated greed and hate.
A new door must be built, open to allow hope to flourish
and America’s soul renewed by love for all,
that we may see its faith is restored.
Vote to end America’s soul-less rage.
Vote to turn America’s fearfully hate-written page.
Vote our constitution and rule of law to be restored.
Vote to lift your own lamp above every closed door.
Lift the lamp of freedom over America forevermore.
Hiding your light under the barrel and staying silent
has never worked before.
GO VOTE!
Then light the space around you
until the nightmares are put at an end;
and America is, once again, on the mend.
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.
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