The Poetry Marathon

CHUMP CHANGE

Why is Donald Trump willing to take a pay cut to have power and prestige?

Working for chump change?

Running for President was a good strategy for selling the book he didn’t write.

What now?

Did he lose a game of truth or dare and the dare was to run for president?

The chumps that will not change are the American People –

H.L Menken called us the “boobocracy”

Nobody ever went broke underestimating our intelligence.

There’s a sucker born every minute.

Ha Ha.

How cleverly we make our wry, detached comments,

Showing our superior detachment and philosophical control,

As the ship of state sinks.

Now that people know crazy lies and hate mongering sells, we will have it  back again.

The people who called Lincoln a monkey will have access to youtube and go on CNN for interviews.

Other reality TV stars will run of office, and eventually some will win,

And we might not notice the difference,

As the sideshow distracts us from the drowning earth,

The bodies riddled with bullets,

The jobless young black men fermenting in rage on the corners.

The billionaires playing us for suckers

Playing us off against each other.

The disabled against reproductive freedom,

Unions, the source of the middle class, against the middle  class.

Shut your eyes real real tight and look.

The strange orange man is still there,

and Republicans, selling their souls for victory,

have not disavowed him.

And someone, reading these words, will find the controversial.

“Yeh, but Hillary the liar who ordered the hit on Benghazi”

they begin.

Truth is split  into two camps,

Held hostage by ideology,

The facts themselves are for sale.

In fifty years the low areas of Oakland will be underwater.

Fortunately, in the eyes of those in a position to stop it,

Those areas are not the best part of town.

Let’s not let these things upset us, though,

As long as the cable and the internet are working.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Screamed, dreamed?

Whispering in terror

fearfulness apparent in wide,

translucent eyes begging

the silent to hear

but she cannot scream

she cannot hear

there is only the nothing

that comes when unanswered

pleas become shouts of regret

there is nothing to be done

there is nothing to be learned

there is always something

that can be awakened

if we look with everything

save our eyes

which can only hear

silent screaming coming

from the shouting of

an amplified heart

 

• Mark L. Lucker
  ©2016

#21 – Dear Friend (Letter to Someone)

Good evening, dear friend.

Had a Blue jay come and yatter to me tonight.
Odd because there haven’t been many Blue Jays around here,
in general, and none recently.
And, it was dusk, almost evening, which is a stranger time for its visit.
Kept drawing attention to itself until I answered
and had the little conversation.
Won’t say what I talked about yet but it was all good
and quite satisfying to state out loud.
Hope all is going well for you, and, your various projects.
You’re in my mind, thoughts, and verbalizations lately.
Soon, my friend.

hour thirteen

the empty place
in the armchair
everytime I drink
my coffee

the missing minutes
of our talk in the morning

the silence
in your room
nobody turning on
the laptop
at midnight

so many white nights
after you are gone
my face has gone
pale white

I feel this life
is a ghost
not a dream

For My Grandchild

For My Grandchild (whenever s/he decides to appear)

 

Dearest child,

We have been waiting

for you for so long,

it will be beautiful to have you here.

 

The house has been

silent of the

ringing laughter

of babes

after your mother

or father

left our nest.

 

Christmas has a sparkle again –

it’s magic has returned,

as has Easter

with its

bunnies

and

eggs

and sweet chocolate treats.

 

I must confess,

I had despaired

of an

empty house

but

now that you have arrived,

my heart can smile again.

 

Come,

let’s read the picture book

that made your father laugh –

any one will do –

and you will find that you

will laugh, too.

 

You don’t know it yet,

but

I love you more than

you could ever

know.

 

Now get here

safe,

darling child,

we have so much

to do.

 

Love from your grandma to be.

 

(c) R. L. Elke 2016

Mother

Dear God,

People say

You take lovely people

If you take flower

The land would be barren

If you take light

The world would be dark

If you take good

The universe become bad

When you took my mother

The world became dull

People say

She’s there with you

Give her back

so the world becomes bright

Or take me too

So I can be lovely too

Don’t leave me without

My light and precious thing

Don’t leave me without

A caring mother

 

A Note for the Road

Dear Loves,

In the most critical year of your life, a few defining things will happen.

Someone or something will be born and die.  Yes, both will happen – a birth and a death.  

A great love will be lost and one will be gained.  

You will question God, and if you are listening, you will get the answer.  

If you are honest with yourself, you’ll realize that you’ve had the answer all along.  

 

Then the most critical thing that will happen is that you will find yourself.  

You’ll appreciate the bad times and decisions for the building blocks that they are; and you’ll celebrate the good times and decisions for the foundation that you’ll see on that day.  

You will fall in LOVE, with YOU.

Your dream will become a clear project plan and you will know your purpose.  

The things that you once valued will have little worth if they aren’t critical to your path, and it’ll be okay.  

In the most critical year of your life, you’ll know.

You will find that you are enough, Always

13

You’ve captured my fancy

and I like where you keep her…

You’ve captured my fancy

and I love how you feed her…

You’ve captured my fancy

with a thought, I can be there…

You’ve captured my fancy

and I hope that you need her…

You’ve captured my fancy

and as much as you please her…

You’ve captured my fancy

please do not leave her…

‘Sincerity’

“Welcome home” they all said
like it was good to be back
like this place was really home

if home is where the heart is
I am currently homeless

“Welcome home” they all said
as if I had been off at war
or in prison, unjustly accused

“Welcome home” they all said
jauntily, as if the inexorable nature
of their positivity could erase all

“Welcome home” they all said
because it suited them, their needs
fitting their personalities, clichéd

“Welcome home” they all said
to their credit, it at the very least,
fell far short of “Have a nice day”

Which would have required the
only response I could possibly give;
“Pardon me.”

 

• Mark L. Lucker
  ©2016

 

Hour 21 – Prompt 21 – Letter Poem – “The connection”

Dear Corporation,
The rains have outperformed themselves this year.
They showered their blessings on us and the roads with
their torrential downpour and incessant affection.
As a consequence, they washed away the fragile tar
on the roads, that you had carefully prepared just
for this season.

The muddy rainwater fills these broken patches.
Walking on these roads is like learning to walk again,
with careful steps. The vehicles have a gala time,
sloshing the water onto themselves and the passers-by.
The passengers inside the vehicles experience what
the farmers using bullock-carts do, in their fields.

What a lovely way to unite people living in cities
with those in villages. Now, both experience the same
speed, the same jerks and the same movements.
Though miles apart, your intent to connect the diverse
lifestyles, with this common approach is commendable.

Yours sincerely,
The street users