Think-piece Poem
Postcards from Buster,
not lacking in luster;
we lick stomping boots,
churn Change slowly like butter.
By marching along
to the toll of the gong,
we remind Us and They
walls and giants do fall.
Boo Radley shudders,
runs, hides behind shutters,
as Black band of bandits
emerges from gutters.
The nerve of these Others!
Pitch perfect song-sluggers;
these actors who master
roles Father and Mother!
How they creep undercov-Oh!
The strength they must muster
in movement, like motor,
still stealthy like rudder…
Bomb shelter! Bunker!
“Cash over Clunkers”
Damn, all these schm*cks
Jam up progress like Smucker’s
Say to harmony-husher:
“Turn pages, my brother.
Night ready or not,
my sun’s rays shall recover,
and rage like no other,
and burn tired rubber
stamps and replace
feather-lightweights with thunder,”
If self-soilers sputter
or down-keepers mutter;
sun-slappers try felling
firm Fir tree for lumber
Review book of matthew,
the nineteenth in number:
One joined with God’s glue
Let no klan tear asunder.
Divinely upheld
People rooted in culture -
Pain in the back
of Saltine cracker lovers.