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Sky Leach Poem
Looking down upon the deed I find
The questions circling in my mind
Was there some choice I overlooked?
Some option hid or worse forsook?
My brothers now behind me stand,
and we proclaim a merry band!
Yet it’s the blood-soaked ground behind
That seems to fill my heavy mind.
We sought to change the status quo
Human nature was our foe
But you fought back as best you could
And never questioned if you should
I know through which eyes you saw
Hid behind bastions of law
We tried through politics first of course
Yet through trickery no recourse
You knew how the game was played
And for overconfidence you stayed
Demanding stays and motions served
Ignoring laments you claimed absurd
And so we tried to explain your quirk
To people indentured forced to work
To pay off debts taken in desperate need
Unable to know all was your deed
With numbers, charts and program code
To show them you had made their load
But too complex it failed to stick
Their worker’s minds were still too thick
And worse, far worse we found
You’d made your problem common ground
You funneled debt into bad loans
And hid your lies in people’s homes
Thus making the cost of your demise
The loss of a nation’s people most prized
The middle class, their homes in hock
The value fake, their lives in shock
If you went down you had made sure
Their fortunes would follow, a poison cure
And so you forced a government
To break it’s sacred sacrament
And here we are, smoke all around
And blood, sticky blood, upon the ground
And although inside I hold a sob
I cannot quit this awful job
I lift my gun, a heavy weight
To free our children from our fate
Copyright © Sky Leach | Year Posted 2016
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Sky Leach Poem
Mexico again and more Injun and back to Mexico,
Tick off Lakota, Dakota, Cheyenne and Arapaho,
The Great Sioux War and lots more fuss before we invade Brazil,
Let’s hop around some islands first (punch out the Yaqui as well)
We’re beating drums to call your sons to help us as we raid,
It’s carnival of glory for the patriot’s parade.
That empire of the Spanish state is really ripe for gleanings,
We’ll pick up Puerto Rico, Guam, Cuba and the Phillipenes.
Let’s not overlook those Boxers and their crazy Kung Fu too!
It simply would look bad if monks kick us out using mushu.
Author: I’m not beating this damned drum anymore…
Muse: But we haven’t even gotten to the world wars!
Author: I’m starting to think the mad hatter’s leading this damned Patriot Parade
Muse: It’s only 1901! We still have the whole 20th century left to go!
Author: Screw you muse, I’m out. Peace.
Copyright © Sky Leach | Year Posted 2016
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Sky Leach Poem
It was said by pilgrim sons next to the Boston Harbor,
That to take tax without redress was action of dishonor.
And so a team of farmers went and built themselves an army,
To drive the redcoats off their land and end George’s tyranny.
We’re beating drums and ask your sons to come now to our aid
We’re marching out as men along the patriot’s parade.
Them red-devil Injuns ain’t no good and they cavort in sin!
So forget your Ma’s and Pa’s my boys the calvr’y needs a win.
We’ll drive them savages off them fields and make that land our own,
Them whisky barons should pay too for drunks and broked men’s homes
We’re beating drums so tell your sons to come now to our aid
We’re marching out as soldiers along the patriot’s parade.
The government of 1812 wanted lands Canadian
they also set about with plans to take captured Lousianne.
Those Brits they really gave us cause with press-gang’d merchant sailors.
Rise up you merry lads and arm let’s feed those Brits to gators!
We’re beating drums to protect your sons so come now to our aid
We’re marching yet again along the patriot’s parade.
Keep sending sons to mount and ride against the red-man nations,
In Texas good men hold back Santa Anna’s salutations.
The yellow cinaman’s opium turns strong men into slaves,
We need to climb Mt. Fiji and teach Japan we rule the waves.
We’re beating on the drums again, not empire, just foreign aid;
We’re sailors, soldiers and marines on a patriot’s parade.
Them fed’ral scum think they can ru’n our way of life. ‘tain’t southern.
They’re try’na undercut our vote by free’n the ‘raff for breedin’.
Those southern states how dare they break from this nation we’re building?
We can’t let constitution bar the way that we are growing!
We’re sailors, soldiers and your sons on a patriot’s parade
We’re the real army and your true sons on patriot’s parade
You may think we’ve fought enough and we all wish that it were so,
But truth be told we need to scold Koreans on Ganghwado.
And even if that weren’t so bad rustlers have crossed the border,
We need more men that we can send to restore Texan order.
We’re beating on new drums, you’ll see, all dressed in golden braid,
The army, navy and marines on patriot parade!
Copyright © Sky Leach | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
Sky Leach Poem
Snick-woosh, rushing stream
Clink, gurgle, doppler shift
Glub then tinkle, drip drip
Crystal scrape metallic
A plastic click, pause, muffled hiss
Gurgle, snort, chuckle, snuff
Plink… Plink plink… Drizzle, drip, drizzle, drop
Coffee is brewing
Dry rustle, crinkle, pages on wood
Chock, thwock, slap, a paper stack
A throaty zip, heavy, dry, leather
Shunk, shunk, economy of motion
A sharper zip, bdruuup, fin!
Schwop, clack-slither-clink,
A full brief set down
Heavy drag, porcelain vs. wood
Clink-clunk, crystal tink
A throaty gurgle, barely heard
Sh-nick (minor tinkle), schwoop, Sh-nick (minor tickle), swoop,
plastic scrape-pop, glub, quiet though, like a heavy drop
scrape-slink-swish, doppler pi
The brew is stirred
A sharp slurp, a quiet sigh
Murmurs, growing, muffled by door
A grunt, more felt than heard
Heavy cup, counter thunk, slop-plop spilled a drop
Woosh, shunk, clunk, rustle fabric
Deep wood grunts, tile is silent
Recess is over
Slither metal, muffled chulunk, woosh of air
BURST wave of voice, fabric rushing, movement!
Heavy wood, creak, ever-so-soft snick of oiled metal
The voices drop, whispered now, a whisper roar
Murmured greeting, wush of skin on skin
Creak, thunk, metallic pling-plong-sprong
Seats are taken
One final creek, sprong-pling-pong
Rubber whuph, carpet snuff, softly leather protests
Deep tenor, no tremor, mellow-stop, mellow-stop
Measured cadences, carry up and settle, up and settle
Now heavy, deeper, rhythmic, damning
A kettle drum of point by point, rolling, inevitable
Move to acquit
Copyright © Sky Leach | Year Posted 2016
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