Best Pretends Poems
America pretends today
that it didn't actually
put an unqualified
narcissistic bully
in the position
of the most
powerful man
in the whole known universe,
America pretends today
that somehow
this lying
two-faced con-man
can best represent
their interests
& actually givea damn,
America pretends today
that its o.k.
that the office
of the President
is now run by a
scamming tycoon
real-estate developer
whose claim to fame
is really just
his name,
America pretends today,
that mocking the broken,
denigrating tortured prisoners,
sexual-assault,
bigotry & racism
are all forgivable
in their newly
minted Chief,
America pretends today,
that this choice
is not a reflection
of the darkness
in its people,
of the false promise
of a Great America,
and the bitter poison
that is white folks
fear & dread.
America has another drink
& then
goes home.
(With thanks to the late great Francis Vincent Zappa)
The pursuit of happiness
is the American Dream
but how can I be happy
if I ain’t spending?
What kind of world
have we all come to live in
where happiness is sold at
filthy auctions?
Add it to my cart online
and hope I’ve earned free shipping.
Go to college,
get a job,
make something of yourself.
I did exactly as the teachers said
and still feel so unfulfilled.
“Where do you see yourself in five years?”
Not still stuck inside my parents’ house.
When you’re brought up in poverty
it’s really hard to rise;
you gotta shoot for the sky
and everyone will try to shoot you down
cause they’re after the same prize
What’s the prize?
A moment of fame,
a few hundred bucks,
debt paid off,
beggars can’t be choosers, right?
What would you do for a million dollars?
Well, I kind of have a moral strife:
I work fifty hour weeks
rack in the overtime,
don’t get paid enough to survive,
“take a mental health day,”
I ain’t got the time.
Wonder if I’d be better off
if I just rob ‘em blind!
“What are you complaining for?
You’ve got the dream job that you wanted,
aren’t you happy now?”
“I guess it really wasn’t what I wanted,
was it, now?”
Drowning in all kinds of loans
wasn’t exactly where I saw myself;
chasing a fantasy
led me to a great depression;
you want to talk mental health?
I don’t sleep, I overeat,
I work and work and work and work,
pour all my emotions down the drain,
and act like I’m perfectly okay
because I’ve achieved happiness
according to the American Dream.
So why am I not happy?
Why are we not happy?
Why do we riot and rage,
shoot our children,
starve our people,
and wave an unachievable dream
in the faces of the future generations
so we can watch them struggle,
and burn,
and fall apart at the seams
all while they pretend to be happy?
Dorothy’s fabricated Pollyannaism struck me as obnoxious.
She pretends to be a pacificator at these PTA meetings.
I have seen her social media posts.
She is an avid hawk with violent words.
She loves guns and bullets.
Pretending to be a dove here.
Asking for us to vote her in as president.
Does she have the other women fooled?
Should I stand up and speak?
I catch the eye of another woman.
We do not know each other.
Our eyes roll in unison and we laugh.
I let things slide, hoping others are not fooled.
Tissy is reading the best book she’s ever read.
Her tummy is full of Kibble, she has been greatly fed.
You can come off the shelf if you want, her owner said.
But Tissy is happy in her sailing ship, she has named Ed.
Surrounding her on other shelves are seashells and such.
For Tissy loves the sound of the waves and the beaches so much.
She is terrified of water, but she loves her boat with a sail.
The novel she is reading helps her envision some wind and a gale.
If her boat tips, she will probably fall off the shelf.
Says a mischievous person, a lost Christmas elf.
Let’s expect the best, I say, for she is cozy and happy.
And if she gets sleepy, she can take a small nappy.
My co-workers flock in to see me.
But they do not, actually see the real me.
I hide from them.
They stay a bit, telling me
What I do not listen to,
But pretend I do.
They are satisfied when
They leave
For I have mastered
The face
That pretends
To
Care
I
Am
Rather
Horrible
But
I am not here
For them
I am here for the children.
When the children come
I listen well and hard,
For they see the real me, and I, them.