Long Scapegoats Poems
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Artfully dodging explosive solutions
pretending shackles restrained prisoner
lobbed pseudo Molotov cocktails
kindly, loosely, and mutinously linkedin
liberal short (make believe) chain
leashed faux abysmal isolated confinement
former courtly poet,
who consumed prison fare
equalling bread and thin gruel
poetical, quizzical, and rational thinking
wrought eventual gladness!
Meanwhile elsewhere within
another complex edifice
Stormy (Daniels) reign
came and went
accompanying barren
cruel don, trumpeting
issuing expansion fiat
wielding, gesticulating, brandishing...
ironclad golf club spouting art of the deal,
whereby might versus right
simultaneously Putin on the ritz
song and dance routine
crooning Ivana mock up Earth,
especially figurative roasting statesman christened
Elijah Cummings, an American politician
and civil rights advocate who served
in United States House of Representatives
for Maryland's 7th congressional district
from 1996 until his death in 2019.
That oversized ego freezer
with pouffed hair,
who shall not be named
made abominable destiny manifest
regarding eminent domain
dominion, he forcibly
relocated natives to Cajun shelters
charging them admission fees
manumission granted serving
white supremacist conveniently optioning
kids as scapegoats
re: Deferred Action for
Childhood Arrivals (DACA)
labor away migrants
grunts passive pluperfect targets
no matter forbears indigenous
to America unfortunately
been man-date to bite bullet
within badlands of El Paso
meanwhile oblivious hermit aging
barnacle encrusted manacles
absorbing cumulative dampness
no longer granting resistance
to life nor limb
timely manumission lovely bones restored
swallowed potion frothing colorful brew
contrived exquisite firearms.
Ah redeemed character
(any resemblance between
initially mentioned unfortunate soul
and living persons purely coincidental)
mentioned at outset of poem
broached out Alcatraz replica
free and clear fresh air revived
fifty shades of gray
immediately sieged moment
weakly hollered carpe diem
elixir imbued immunity
against taken hostage at gunpoint
freedmen impressed into service
while waved magic wand
whereby enslaved women
retaliated hashtagged misogynistic
took appropriate revenge
as apprenticed warrioresses!
False promises and bold faced lies
From leaders we call men,
Too foolish, vain and unwise
It’s the election blues again.
Feign to believe the web they weave
With patient ears we listen,
Future balanced if they achieve
From deceitful eyes teeth glisten.
In principle, fate is our blame
Yet in our selfish pride,
Our judgment shadows woeful shame
Behind scapegoats fail to hide.
Ballot fiends they all may be
Watching poll numbers, plus or minus three,
What will their victory bring to me
After January twenty-three.
Subsidized youth sports, gun control
Child care dollars galore,
A policy a day, and truth be told
Campaign gifts are a chore.
What matters East-West-South ‘n North
Is that we get it right,
While opponents bicker back and forth
By cable, bus or flight.
Success depends on unity
Without it we’re a wreck,
While one side suffers mutiny
The Grits give Tories heck.
The separatist Bloc` says “Let us go”
Demanding sovereign freedom,
White margarine and one-tongued-signs
Does Canada really need them.
The answer is, quite simply, oui`
We cannot tear apart,
Instead, honor all with dignity
And make a brand new start.
While men debate with pointed fingers
On issues big or small,
Our neighbor’s fear of terror lingers
With plans to build a wall.
Five billion they shall not relinquish
While bring East to peace,
Infernal war fires ne’r extinguish
Diplomacy for lease.
Denying partnership in war
To Iraq we didn’t go,
And up in space where eagles soar
Again we said “Oh no”.
Canada is not the States
Their future is not ours,
While Bush comments on us, berates
His future quickly sours.
When we look back upon these days
In golden years of life,
Will mirrored lakes obscure with haze
Too thick for sharpened knife.
Or does the future hold great treasure
For Canadians, one and all,
With strength and courage beyond measure
Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall.
Like years before, each voter chooses
With hopes and dreams of change and glory,
But in the end there’s winners and losers
Different writer, same old story.
Scott Goldsberry
December 30, 2005
re-write of American Pie:
A long, long time ago,
I can still remember when,
The presidency meant so much.
I was sure that when they got to vote,
They wouldn't choose that pompous goat,
And now I'm just astounded that they did.
Each speech I heard had made me shrivel,
To hear his racist, fascist drivel,
It can't be coincidental, his fans all seem quite mental!
I didn't know just what to say,
When I saw the vote had gone his way,
Nothing left but curse or pray,
The day Trump bought their pride...
So, Hi there! to American dread,
Was disorder at the border as the Mexicans fled,
The prices soared on petrol, water and bread,
It's hard to see a brighter day ahead,
Cause democracy and decency are dead…
Did you vote and if you did,
Did you think of all those homeless kids?
Or just about your own dough?
Did you vote with head or heart?
Well remember that when trouble starts,
Did you toss away your future in one throw?
Well, I guess that if you voted Trump,
It wasn't for that wiggy chump,
The cash that you have spare,
You don't think you should share!
So you voted for the man you guessed,
Could improve your fortune for the best,
And hell could come and take the rest,
The day Trump bought their pride…
I started singin' Hi there! to American dread,
Mass disorder at the border as the Mexicans fled,
The prices soared on petrol, water and bread,
It's hard to see a brighter day ahead,
When democracy and decency are dead.
Now, for four years you're stuck with this ass,
And God only knows what will come to pass,
But it was what we voted for?
When you cast your vote its a one dice roll,
So use your head and protect your soul,
you never know what fate will have in store.
So now you're stuck with Donald Trump,
While the markets tank and the dollar slumps,
It's open day for cut throats,
The immigrants all scapegoats.
And while Clinton sues the FBI,
And the poorest all begin to cry,
And the maggots taint the pumpkin pie,
The day Trump bought our pride…
I started singin' Hi there! to American dread,
Theres disorder at the border as the Mexicans fled,
The prices soared on petrol, water and bread,
It's hard to see a brighter day ahead,
Cause democracy and decency are dead.
Last Call
This is where I feel at ease. Senses heightened subtly by the mixture of light and darkness. The night time lights; bar lights, street lamps, flashing fluorescent advertisements, candle light, moon light; nights are illuminated with versatility, glow sticks ever growing, ever changing the scenery. The street lamps reflect in a puddle near the sidewalk. Fleeting fluorescents pronounce the beauty of eclecticism. Candlelight surpassed only by the light of moon’s romance
for whom do I emanate
light and dark mingle
perceptions change according
Reflecting back, I had no hips when I began my career. They were not necessary for my clients. I beheld the warmth and beauty, starving for positive attention, and pleasing another, after family imprisonment had me chained down and kicked for so long. (A flower for just a greeting, I had found my calling). After thirty-three years in my lucrative, business, I have blossomed into the shape of an hourglass, with the wisdom and class that come naturally with study for my service. I have a few fledglings of my own, able to sway their hips and converse interestingly with the painted lips of their chosen trade. They will flourish alongside me, if they take my hard, learned lessons as gospel.
youth is coveted by most
stay fit or lose ground
keep current and set high goals
As luck would have it daddy broke naught my spirit, nor my bones, but did a job on my secret parts, sacred and hidden from others. Wait! What is this I understand? I may work and emancipate myself! Be freed of my family’s corrupt prison of Ugly. I earned my papers at sixteen with family applause. Scapegoats gone, time to more than survive….but thrive. Yes, freedom is a state of mind, yet one’s mind holds only so much tenacity.
supreme Judge is not human
proper escorts, charm
and will never hear, last call
Sunshine Williams
Electroconvulsive therapy,
a last ditch avail
able effort optioned, aye bewail
as desperation if standard
psychological measures peter
out leave ving paul tree
(paltry) choice, and blackmail
ling Doctor Frankenstein
out of the question, cuz
accidental discover re:
visa vis could yield (ahem) grave
zero APR, hence bad
(bon jovian) medicine
sought as precautionary
measure to countervail
undesirable repercussions
hoop fully curtail
ling any unexpected derail
ment, thus every nitty gritty detail,
asper my treatment plan
made purposely intractable
courtesy Matthew Scott Harris,
to flummox decrypting
this daunting task, whose
hair brained scheme didst entail
hatching with Sam I am
(of Doctor Zeus fame)...Oh...My...G___
egg gads no fail-
safe recourse, should shell shock
Electroconvulsive – formerly electric shock
therapy even slip an infinitesimal jot
offsetting requisite
exactly predicted results
yes, even if precision errs
by a mere clipped fingernail...
the sought after outcome
(devised on the fly - by night
Reddit writer above named author)
must absolutely dovetail
with The Elements of Style
or very close
facsimile thereof, anyway
strict requirements quality controlled
with results tubby
sent as email
to Strunk and White,
who will flail
like some GMO gone awry
(if patient accidentally electrocuted)
finding them to become
instantaneously petrified and frail
looking analogous to
witnessing the Holy Grail
shattering into a bajillion pieces,
whereby the heavens,
would reign hail
scaring every last man,
woman, and child to hightail
donned in heavy duty boots
studded with many a hobnail
with duff feet, sans long arm of
law and order on their heels,
and if any scapegoats nabbed
definitely consigned to jail
without chance of parole to prevail
no matter guilty might sail
to some tropical island awash
with countless carbon copies
of Euell Gibbons doppelganger,
and Swiss Alpine like mountains to scale.
Brutus Iulius Trois page 08
Suddenly stillness all sounds silenced the last pirate slain.
From the bowels of the Tireme came cheers that grew louder
From men newly freed from their enslavement to the Thracian oars
Phyrgians, Scythians, Mysians and Lycians
all hittite clansmen, kinsmen and allies of the Trojan tribes
also were heard loud laudations from the surviving Phoenicians
with softer lamentations for those they had lost.
The Phoenician Teresh, the purple merchant of Tyre
swore blood brotherhood to Brutus
binding the Trojans to the Sea people in perpetuity
giving his twelfth son Tursha to squire the Trojan
Tursha terrified in the sea battle had hidden in the hold
praying to Mercury the patron of merchants
Brutus renamed the boy Turonus and proclaimed him a Trojan
Brutus sent this new nephew to tend to Imogen
In the sad sea green eyes of this foster child
Imogen saw echos of her own recent woes
comforting him she found comfort herself.
When the Trojan siege had ended by trickery
When the city was sacked and the Palladium taken
The Greeks left a land salted with blood and bone
The Greeks left a desolated city with defiled temples
The Greeks left cursed with their own profane deeds.
The Greeks left the Trojan traitor Antenor king with nothing to rule
To abate the Greek curses caused by Locrian Ajax's vile deeds
The Pythia at Delphi declared a thousand years of atonement
with two Locrian priestesses sent as sacrifices to Troy
sent to serve Minerva's temple in Troy, bearing the Ajaxian curse.
As the oracle demanded Diomedes returned the Palladium to Aeneas
Then did all Greek suffering cease, Ulysees returned home.
Hesione's son Teucer founded a new Salamis in Cyprus.
When Antenor rebuilt Troy's walls, Neptune shook them down
sending waves that washed away fields, salting the gardens again.
Apollo plagued Antenor with mice which ate the harvest to the seed.
Scamander's golden spring lambs, sickened and died
Afraid of what Minerva would do if they killed the Locrian Scapegoats
Antenor and his sons soon abandoned Troy to the Phyrgians
They sailed off seeking shelter far from this thrice cursed homeland
No words describe,
sufferings worse than hell,
Goes beyond pure evil,
even a story cannot tell,
We’ve all seen pictures,
making grotesque sense,
But only the stench,
reflects this actual offense.
Cruelty surpasses cruelty,
overtaken by hate,
Unique to humanity,
not a wild animals trait,
Only intelligent creatures,
contrive such events,
Still, the stench belies,
this ideological offense.
Infectious propaganda,
turns a (master race) blind,
The urge for slaughter,
becomes industrially refined,
Ever lower they sink,
pleasure’s more intense,
Til’ the stench alone screams,
a sadistic offense.
NAZI’S (the final solution).
for scapegoats of the war,
All innocent victims,
Fanatical Holocaust,
Left to rot and stink,
bodies piled so immense,
Until the stench itself,
reeks a nations offense.
Countless Men, Women,
and Children, loaded like beasts,
Crammed into cattle cars,
one way ticket east,
Some succumbed and died,
via, a ghost train’s torment,
At least spared the stench,
and last phase of offense,
Seventy five years on,
since world became aware,
Even now some deny,
moreover, could not care,
Gas chamber’s, crematoria,
behind an electric fence,
Stench will never allow,
amnesia of this offense.
Cryptic sign, above the gates,
reads! (Arbeit Macht Frei) work sets you free!
First take a shower,
later some cake and tea,
No water in the pipes,
but, pellets of Zyclone B,
Soon sickly ash rises,
set free, up a working chimney,
SS guards standing outside,
mocking, enjoying a smoke,
“Smell even worse, when they burn,”
(laughing at their own joke).
“Look at the next group praying”
(again laugh, into their face)
“We’re the chosen ones,
The gods who run this place.”
There’s Categorically no defense,
Slaughtering millions without relent,
The stench tries, The stench proves,
The stench condemns, this offense.
By
David Kavanagh.
“Only by evidence of truth,
Can we accuse and adduce.”
In the labyrinth of shadows stretching across the walls of consciousness,
we constantly seek scapegoats, like hunters of clouds
in a storm of illusions, fleeing from truths covered
under veils of mist, where each step is a silent refusal
of introspection and sincere gaze into the mirror of lucidity.
It is as if we float on rivers of denial, where the waves
are whispers of self-deception, and the shores are lined
with leaves of old excuses, rustling like ghosts
at every breeze of unacknowledged thoughts.
In this theater of the mind, evasion becomes an art,
a tapestry of illusions woven with threads of fear of truth.
Beneath the murky waters lies the treasure of unexplored problems,
awaiting the courage of those who dare to dig deep,
but where is the courage, where is the determination to face
the silent demons hidden in the dark corners of society?
Perhaps within each of us lies a fragment of light,
a glimmer of wisdom waiting to be ignited
by the spark of assumed and sincere responsibility.
On the stage of life, we spin in circles of helplessness,
a dance of hesitation and lack of determination, where shadows
lengthen, covering unspoken truths with their mantle,
the symphony of indecision reverberating in the depths of the collective being,
an echo of the fear of looking beyond the mask of illusion.
Where is the light that will pierce this dense darkness,
where is the firm hand that will untie the tight knots
of difficulties that burden our consciousness?
Perhaps the solution is hidden in the heart of each,
a rough diamond waiting to be polished by the will
to confront the truth, to accept that the answers
are not outside, but within, in that place where
consciousness finds its balance and peace.
In this stream of consciousness, we seek not outward,
but in the depths of our own selves, where, perhaps,
we will discover that change begins with each of us,
with every thought transformed into action,
with every step taken toward the light of eternity.
These leopard eyes warily see
another crimson dawn
on the cold concrete Serengeti
A scarlet sun
shaped like the barrel of a gun
Dark plume of heat
triggers the survival instinct scatter
Watch the bulls-eye prey run
Where to in the confusion?
It doesn’t matter ...
I see every bent knee flee the fatal gather
And the hard asphalt ground
is soaked with cull pleasure splatter
Such cruel reign,
heated shell cases falling
on a barren plain
Torrential stains
fear clouds another powerless pain day
Shattered bones in the herd traffic fray,
cast carcass shadows on the smeared terrain
Listen to the Serengeti dirge refrain
Unrelenting spherical storm of violence
hold saltpeter spittle sway
Last rites spoken,
whether vain poacher say:
Expect more endless safari days!
These leper spots wearily feel
bewilderedbeest misery
Great paleheart hunters of colony cage-makers
roam conscience-free
on the cement-dried Serengeti
Thus be the hunted fate
we eclipse-coated [e]scapegoats tear bleed
The killing fields of poverty
is the gravel grass on which we daily feed
Closed-eyes witness the hopelessness stampede
Open wound testimony
ain’t necessary
when the muzzled silencer takes a sniper bead
And the holstered predators
with the rifle-scope gaze
Whose mercantile hue eyes, masked in blue camouflage,
trespass the boundaries of morality
Nimrod brood coin collectors
set the savannah air ablaze
Human hunters’ breath gives Death a smoking homage,
iron-copper cry of Serengeti tragedy
Perforating enamels on metallic patrol,
their pelt-piercing lust has devolved
into the next caveman iteration
From runaway chattel catchers to gated property protectors,
their trophy wall filled with
gory plaques of commendation
Seems like these sullen safari days are grief endless
And every red blot
on this paved prairie,
flatline view Serengeti
Will be trodden down erased by each bullet confess
08-16-21
Bajillion years after proto humans experienced woe
countless figurative early Brady bunched bro doggie
dimples encountered necessity to escape cohabitation
(marital covenant alien), yet quasi marital brouhaha
ofttimes witnessed altercation begetting re: thorough
out baby with bath water phenomena, which literal
cruel fate heavily peppered past (mine) accounting
lamely explaining Pink Floyd momentary status quo
upended accompanied courtesy lapse of reason no
definitive evidence to substantiate claim, yet I know
without shadowed doubt every friggin forebear (hoe
pining to savor manumission, versus cotton pickin)
back breaking stoop labor think indentured escrow
harking back to days of our lives (mainly bonobo
nasty, short and brutus creatures millenniums ago
unsung simian kindred beings suffering figurative
ruffled horse feathers nsync with bird in hand dodo
which latter species long extinct (as Dutch good eats)
now non sequitur (sea quitter) mine homeboys/girls
comprising Harris eventual clan (of craven lionized
"scapegoats" set genealogical precedent, and grew
some real winners gentiles, who commingled and
intermarried, and united proudly to kvetch as Jew)
eventually acquiring redeeming qualities conveniently
best caricatured as features exhibited by Mister MaGoo
invariably dear reader "fake" anecdote ye will poo poo
as well how storied and fabled coronavirus (COVID-19)
medical technicians reference quaint pandemic setting
figurative global stage brethren and sistern microbes
made webbed, wide world wish for said good ole days
cuz, communique done being crafted about six hours
marine hated, armies of beastie boys slain 2120 yahoo
the darndest, latest microscopic bugaboo nearly slew
entire population, hence envision terra firma with
divine providence absolute zero people as edenic
provenance (metaphorically offering tabula rasa view.