Best Hyphenated Poems
What is a hyphenated word?
A written impression?
An expression of discourse?
Defamation redefined?
At fault when it is labeled as hate?
What are words when they change
to play a different game,
to make it more palatable,
yet,
the meaning remains unchanged?
The use of hyphenated words,
politically correct hate.
Author Note:
The use of hyphenated words such as the N-word has become an acceptable alternative in
discussions related to racial slurs. I fail to understand how this is tolerated when the word
has the same meaning and should have the same impact as unacceptable under any
condition.
HYPHENATED AMERICANS
You have the biggies like Chinese-Americans
And Latino-Americans and German-Americans;
And miniscule groups like Armenian-Americans
Or Bosnia-and-Herzegovinan-Americans;
But why do we never hear of English-Americans,
Scottish-Americans or Welsh-Americans?
Sound weird don’t they? Kinda unnecessary.
Anyone ever heard of Canadian-Americans?
Or Australian- or New Zealand- oh why?
And hey, what about French-Americans?
These are not hyphenated Americans
They are eliminated Americans,
And other groups include
Old people, who are Antiquated-Americans
Mothers - Unappreciated-Americans
Pre-1492 Yanks are Antedated-Americans
AFL-CIO are Aggregated-Americans
Dwarfs are Truncated-Americans
Smog-breathing residents of LA are
Asphyxiated- or Hyperventilated-Americans.
Thank God I’m normal, I’m just American.
The million-to-one longshot -
I know this unlikely victory
isn’t so sweet when the race is fixed
and everyone got paid on the side
for being in on the trick
while I just ran and ran and ran.
Ran until every muscle ached
and could barely breathe,
and you threw me a cup of water
that turned out to be poisoned.
“I didn’t know,” you said,
but you didn’t sip it, either.
Gathering my roses at the finish line,
I searched the crowd of strangers
for someone to share my victory –
little did I know you were at the payout booth
collecting your winnings
from the cruel but well-executed scam.
I’m the hyphen in your used-to-be,
and she’s the substance in your dialogue -
reading between the lines,
I still find her there, laughing,
as I struggle to comprehend
the subtext of your smile.
Your half-truths and vague love songs
dominate my existence -
I’ll sing along with a painted look
of adoration in my eyes,
because I finally figured out
how to play your game, too.
“I’ll go with it,” she said
winking away the time I spent
trying to forget that I knew it all
and closed my eyes, preferring the dream.
I’m awake now, thief,
and I want it all back.
“Million-to-one shot, babe -
million-to-one.”
I’ll take those odds…
but the next time,
believe me, I’ll know better
than to run so fast.
Talking heads
will give you their attached credentials
with solemn aplomb
And it’s plenty hyphen proof long
They’ll make unlearned eyes gasp
at their hyped expertise
Get simpler minds to hyperventilate,
as their lower rack thoughts
common sense overheat
Everyday, mundane pondering
takes a kid table backseat
The babble bobble heads,
with the apron string tongues,
love speaking
upper shelf kitchen cabinet highbrow kitsch
Momma says, the couch potato heads
are always angle offering a self-serving dish
Cooking up pretentious phrases,
their broasted chest stuffings
puffs a lot of jive-turkey bleats
It all sounds ear tasty good ...
got a delicious soul flavor in theory
A tone semi-sweet savor
worth artichoke heart half hearing
Daddy says, the air bubble heads
always got a shrink-wrap blurb tidbit wish
But you gotta stay tuned-in
to the next programmed “must-see” video lip-clip
Don’t let the hyphen-attachments
first guest hook you
Let not your legitimate doubts
be second guess fooled
Talking heads will always
try to tinted glass blow smooth,
make you go-getter move
Get your temper ta-ta’s
to shimmy-shuffle to the hum-drum groove
of the bad hair forecast blues
Calmly gather your lung precious thoughts,
allow the hyperventilating to cease
Supremely, thinking serenely for yourself
is a television ratings cable disease
This is what I am enjoined to be:
Hyphenated !
Bound to vacillate between self-aggrandizement and self-annihilation
I straddle two unrecognizable worlds
only to find solace in none
I am the begetter of my malaise
all made of ungraspable memories and deferred living
Unable to liberate presence from the grips of absence
I dwell on both edges of supposed being
that meanwhile refuse to be reconciled
?for fear that I dare reconstruct my long lost identity
There I stand
a hyphenated land
gazing at imposed images
donning the masks of free choice and self-agency