THREE LEGGED TABLE
We are a three legged table
But we can no longer stand
Our son’s no longer with us
And we try to understand
How to cope with our loss
Called to fight for our land
Sent out to the front line
To that unit undermanned
Now here we are just three
Not a future we’d planned
But the bombs keep falling
As waves of war are fanned
Both loving him and country
A blue and yellow armband
Kurt turned his white daddy in
for going to Washington
January 6 at the President's request
Kurt heeded the call, full of zeal and zest...
Amanda turned her black daddy in too
A Molotov cocktail he threw
At a white police officer in Portland
Unarmed and undermanned
Now Kurt's daddy's in jail
Amanda's is out with no bail
And that is the end of this
'With Liberty and Justice for All' tale
____________________________________
Note: Names have been changed to protect
all the parties involved.
Treachery itself is vagabond
a corporate revenue, a stagnant want
that so directs man's future toward its plan
to implement confusion, narrowed band.
As breaking down arrangements contraband
a flowing over into alien land
control with false derangement, nor expand
a blocking off of nations, to take stand!
As funding from some futile broken hand
is plentiful while reserves empty panned
without a back-up measure, undermanned
and built up to dissension, bankrupt, canned!
So Empire, feeding selfish fake command
and that which ventured lightly, now is banned
while change of capital rating twitter span
monopolizing choice, by worthless scams!
Now, play the note I've written, if you can,
the sound is flat, misgiven . . . bing-bang-bam!
Fires are springing up all over and blazing across the land.
The brave firemen working hard are severely undermanned.
The wheat crop, rippling in the breeze, is beginning to look dry.
Each July day has opened with a brilliant, bright blue sky.
Its the hottest July recorded in usually rainy Puget Sound.
My pretty lawn has withered and my perennials have browned.
We've not had the usual showers in the quiet of the night.
The leaves on my majestic Oak appear as though they were hit by blight.
Our red sunset holds no warning to which sailors must take heed.
There is no promise that tomorrow will bring the rains we need.
Forgive me Lord for grumbling when you sent the endless rain
And I promise I lwill never grouse about dark skies again
Written July 30, 2015
My heart aches with honesty,
Honestly I wish it would stop,my heart that is....
An appendage of pending trust,
The lust of the lazy,the must of guilt.
Flowers must wilt,eyes will get hazy,
Thoughts get crazy,yet my cup does not tilt.
I am the land whose muddy clutch swaddles seeds into children.
Happiness is squandered,undermanned,and slanted.
The goodness of a man is to give his hand planned and planted.
Do you understand?
The grass is overgrown
there is litter everywhere,
the roads are full of cracks and holes
in need of much repair,
the buses are erratic
the trains keep breaking down,
abandoned cars and traffic jams
in almost every town,
the police force and the hospitals
are grossly undermanned,
and farmers losing all their stock
I just don't understand,
we have no emergency
not even a recession,
we are not a third world country
so why give that impression.
my head is full
my stomach: sick
my hands are made of lead
undermanned
underpaid
and surely overfed