We were pleased to claim this land
for Jesus.
We raised cities that were bear free.
Our faith in 'better and bigger' soared;
meth fueled crime leapt still greater.
Cracks appeared where a garish paint
had weathered the sky.
Plaster flamingos crumbled,
angelic limbs hung down
caught in ceiling fissures.
Plastic arrows littered pink concrete.
It was a Mall dream; it was our dream.
We began to covet the uncollectable.
In far off lands worker ants labored
to deliver all things desirable.
Homespun was undone,
yet plaid clad truck wranglers
still wrote their country songs.
Impedimenta impeded the improperly taught.
Log cabins transported themselves
to theme parks,
too little hope clogged casinos floors,
rage stalked the freeways uncaged.
God spoke to us,
urged us to fill storage units
with long raked-over junk,
holy relics in duct taped boxes,
all piled most neatly
in that persnickety old-timey way
of the Midwest.
Categories:
uncollectable, poetry,
Form: Free verse
What Was, Forever Is
Written: by Tom Wright
February 2015
My life has been a book for all to read
With folded down pages to remind,
Some pages worthy, some uncollectable;
Oft times I’ve thought,
I’ll incinerate those dog eared pages,
Containing old closet lesions,
Dispersing ashes to a prevailing wind;
But then, precisely one lather later,
While gaping into the mirror,
An unshaven image spoke volumes.
For the man staring back was unchanged,
One match shy of a box,
And now one day older;
Categories:
uncollectable, age, life,
Form: Free verse