Communism on the Hudson
7/4/2025
Some Americans do not appeciate our land, until it
Is far, far too late,
Till our freedoms are gone and replaced by jealous
Communists at our gate!
You, who are aware, know exactly to whom who I mean.
Who will magically turn you into into a Communist king or queen?
True Americans are not Socialists, nor anything in between.
“ We get our powers from the consent of the governed”.
We are a people of many religions and colors.”
So in your honorable hands today, I encourage wave our colors of
Red, white and blue.
Or, plant one at a veterans grav, an unknown soldier,
Who gave his of her her life for you!
Stop, pleae stop, being afraid to write a beautiful
Political poem, where you take a stand! for this land.
Take arms against the corrupt press, out to paint good foreign neighbors, with leftist, lying stands!
You speak, and my spine remembers
that I was built to bow.
Your breath: a nocturne in C sharp minor—
unasked, entering…
disarming, following.
You lean in like Chopin leaned on silence—
possessively, melancholic need
before sound—searing hushes that
demand submission in return.
And I am raindrops to your
sustaining notes….
storming into the song’s development—
I become the keys, and you the fingers…
—you press out sounds of me—
architectures, arts, poesy,
nocturnes of surrender
rising in my throat…
into yours.
Red blue ball does this is how I press out as a yellow cat the clock kicks about as an Englishmen fishing in a drought purple circle bounces how to pronounce pounce expression’s bored like straw lines cast in the perfect angle time stands still
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