I-nvisible
R-isk
E-mploys
N-asty
E-pidemic's
B-rutal
O-utbreak
L-etting
I-ts
V-irus
A-pply
R-abidity
Topic: Birthday of Irene Bolivar (May 18)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Corsican sand
on the Rio Grande
Simon Bolivar weeps
the night asleep
Renegade cycles
hogs gone mild
Gehinnom's Mayor
Timothy Leary's child
Zebras abound
in Peppermint Land
Alan Ginsberg howls
from primal jowls
Leopold Bloom
did not predict ZOOM
Cosmic collisions silent
without Daniel Boone
Country music
Mix in Ragtime
from Alexander's Band
to Motown Rhyme
Andy Warhol's mind
spilled out in soup cans
Campbell's pork and beans
Welsh Rarebit also-ran
When free association
Met psychic gestalt
The resultant metastasis
Petered out beneath salt
Stream of Consciousness is out
New Age Meaninglessness is sin
Wherever Narcissism reigns
Foot Worship rushes in
The best poems at night
often come unbidden
J. Cricket fervently wished
This one hadn't been written
YOU WERE WARNED, THE BOLIVAR WOULD CRASH.
DESTRUCTION OF WEALTH TOOK PLACE AT LAST.
DID YOU DO, WHAT YOU WERE TOLD.
INVEST YOUR BOLIVAR IN SILVER AND GOLD.
TODAY YOU HAVE JUST RICH AND POOR.
MIDDLE CLASS PEOPLE EXIST NO MORE.
YOU MUST STAND, IN ORDER TO FIGHT.
IMPOSED STARVATION IS CONSIDERED A RIGHT.
STARVE THE MASSES, POPULATION CONTROL.
YOU CAN SLAVE FOR THE RICH, IF YOU DO WHAT YOUR TOLD.
WITH CHAOS AND MAYHEM THROUGH OUT THE LAND.
THE RICH DON'T CARE WHAT THE POOR DEMAND.
Genius is not a gift to amass self
But must produce and share
The legacy of hunger planted in us
Must grow dreams that men can reap.
Amilcar, you are my perfect genius
Found only in an emancipator's heart;
You are our Bolivar, and Tousaint
You are the Fanon in a soldier's heart.
I hope they taught the people
How corn must be grown for the table,
How to grow what they eat and save
What the ants cannot carry away. You
Taught us men do not fight for ideas,
But for their belly and their children's
Dream. I hope they do not turn schools
Into soldier barracks constantly. I hope
My people listen to you and are free.
I want you to ring in freedom's heart.
Oh, the high wind blows and the canvas cracks clean…
shroud lines singin' in a sailor's sad dream.
She opens her arms to embrace the sky
and dance with dolphins that race the bow waves.
She hums in harmony with the gull’s cry
as she follows the path the bright moon paves.
Salted winds carry the promise of spice
and white wings wheel over the sailor's road.
Graceful prow, ignoring rough sea’s advice,
Keeping her souls from the serpent’s abode.
A ship of sails knows the voices of the sea.
She hears whispers from lands beyond the sun
and the moans of whales, crying where none see,
for those who rest where the deep shadows run.
Yes, high the wind blows and the canvas cracks clean.
We all sail with her… each caught in the dream.
The first time I saw the Elyssa, she was under sail off the Bolivar peninsula. I fell in love
with her and knew that I had always loved her.
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