Walt Trizna's Blog, page 63
March 8, 2020
editing and proofreading needed…
A poem of need and neglect.
surely
had the poet
found
the right words
people
would have listened
or
read the words
upon
the page
and
rose up
from
complacency
to feed
a
starving child
or
to shelter
a
fragile soul
from
life’s storms
those
poetic words
that
would give
hearing
to
the deaf
and
sight
to
the blind
surely
had the poet
found
the
right
words
the
right
incantation
dead emotions
would
be
alive
for surely
no
human
could ignore
and
deny
such
basic
needs
of
others
to
exist
March 6, 2020
dead on arrival…
I feel we are a failed experiment.
i lie
in
an open grave
the
stars stare
at
me
in amazement
of
my foolish beliefs
that
i was
free
and could
become
and
attain
anything
but
the stars
know
for they have watched
men
for
centuries
and
understand
that few
are
free
and that
most
are slaves
to
the desires
of
others
though
vassals believe
it
is their desires
that
command
the course
of
their future
but
that
is mere
delusion
a systemic inculcation
carefully
crafted
for
the benefit
of
those in power
a lie
repeated
so
many times
that
like a child
told
to believe
in
the unbelievable
believes
a sandstone dream
the banks
of
one’s soul
on
a raging river
of
greed
only
recognized
when
the shore
of
faith
gives way
and
you end up
in
an
open grave
being
stared at
by
the stars
March 3, 2020
an unknown soldier…
There are times when this poet would not tell these stories.
But, unfortunately, reality is reality.
he had been
dead
for
a couple hours
but
no one noticed
since
he often napped
in
the afternoon
in
the shade
of
the war memorial
to
vietnam vets
he claimed
that
the figures
on
the memorial
were his unit
and
the one
leading the charge
was modelled
after
him
lots of folks
would just giggle
and
say
sure man
that’s you
though
there was
a strong resemblance
anyway
he said
it’s my
right
to sleep here
so no one
was really concerned
about
his long nap
could have been up late
making the rounds
of
restaurant bins
last night
you’d be surprised
by
what they throw out
so
he may
have been feeling
like
a stuffed cat
needing
to sleep
more than usual
so
no one was concerned
until
the police
showed up in the park
along
with a contingency
of
border patrol agents
making
one of their routine
View original post 43 more words
March 2, 2020
dead men in clean underwear…
Money buys everything including our country.
there is
little
disagreement
about
their decaying nature
and
most folks
consider
the stench
from
their
rotting souls
particularly unpleasant
however
when
pious platitude persons
carefully evaluate
how much
money
they’ve
made
from these
walking
political corpses
an
offensive defense
is
offered
in behalf
of
the
not so dearly
departed
they wear
clean
underwear
February 28, 2020
a mannequin – an articulated doll used by…
History repeats itself.
standing outside
a re-election
campaign center
the brown bag prophet
said
to me
do you think
anyone else
has
noticed
that
mussolini’s smudge smile
is
pasted
on
trump’s face
and
that the
ever
menacing glares
of
hitler
are
part and parcel
of
that same
corporate bought
over tanned face
not
that there’s
anything wrong
with
having color
lord knows
i do
but
is there any part
of
that man
not
fabricated
by
someone else
you know
like
the mannequins
dressed
by
others
to
sell you
something
just
to
make money
February 27, 2020
i’m gonna sue you…
Thoughts of importance.
the brown bag prophet
was handing out
political pamphlets
which
isn’t so unusual
this time of the year
but
given his
general attitude
towards
politicos
i had to find out
why
he would support
anyone
he paused
and then
said
i suppose
you
like most folks
recall
the skinny little dude
who ran his mouth
all the time
yelling at others
and
calling them names
which
were
for the most part
characteristic
of
himself
and
when challenged
by
someone
who was going
to
kick his ass
he’d
run home
to
his mother
and
hide
as they say
behind her skirt
it’s kinda
like
the current president
hiding behind
the law
when caught breaking
the laws
of
the land
look at this activity
as
showing his mom
a youtube video
of
the little jerk
February 26, 2020
refused to stop at the wall…
What a time we live in.
campaign promised wall
pilfered funds from everywhere
ruined pristine landscape
xenophobic stunt but now
no funds for fighting virus
February 25, 2020
the disappeared…
Damn, you always hit it. The unfortunate is that there is too much to hit. I think this country will carry on, but it won’t be easy.
that shack’s
got no electric
nor
inside plumbing
as far as we know
nobody
visits
that old man
most folks
say
he’s
a crazy old fool
only thing
he talks about
when he steps foot
off
his property
usually
just
to go
to the general store
is
the haints
in the swamp
the swamp’s
just beyond
his back door
at
night he burns
sage
and
holy impepho
covers
most of his face
in
soot
from
the cedar
burnt in his fireplace
as a child
i once
heard him talking
to
my uncle
said the swamp
holds the souls
of
runaway slaves
freedom fighters
and
soldiers
who thought
freedom
was theirs
because
they fought
in
the great wars
guess
the sheriff
and
town folks disagreed
their bodies
got swallowed up
by
the swamp
no
area 6 burial
for
them
i’ve been thinking
lately
that
he might not
be
all that crazy
View original post 39 more words
February 24, 2020
living on white island…
What can you add?
last few years
have been difficult
a number of minor eruptions
and
a couple of major ones
air has been toxic
and
steam seems
to
always fill the air
making it difficult
to breathe
though
denied
climate change
and
our own lack of stewardship
have
resulted in the loss
of
life
not as many critters
as
there used to be
and
human loss
has been
ever
increasing
it’s like we’re
continuously engaged
in
wars
war with other nations
war with the poor
war with the homeless
war with children
and
war with ourselves
a nation
of
immigrants
this place
called
america
February 22, 2020
cracker jack prize…
Another great poem.
a rather
routine
event
body
lies
properly modified
for
appreciation
by
family
friends
and
those who
had
prayed
for
this day
when
suddenly
the corpse
coughs
this
of course
was
quite
out of the ordinary
and
most
disturbing
to
all
there
was
a series
of
oh dear gods
offered
and
numerous
i didn’t mean what i said
those
plaster saint retractions
filling
the mortuary
chapel
of
forgiveness
but then
someone’s cat
unceremoniously
emerged
from
the coffin
hairball
propelled
at
an ungrateful
and
spiteful
relative
hmm
perhaps
the
dead
do
speak
