Kiev

“Dome, Kiev” by Anna Sokol

 

writhe at the unseen lingering touch

by Chernobyl fingers of Soviet hands

draw deep cleansing breaths

exhale liberty

over these broad ancient steppes

where the ancestral horse

was first tamed to the bit

and the burden of riders

where breadbasket wheat

sways in capital waves

over savory oilfields catering

menus of sham independence

it’s time for that spirited bloodline

those fiercely proud Carpatho-Rusyns

to rise from repression and

once and for all

plunge the dagger of freedom

right up to its self-declared hilt

in the slavering red hearted bear

 

*******************************************

 

(Originally written February, 2014 upon Russia’s invasion of Ukrainian Crimea)

 

 

From my book Bullets from Bones

Four Freedoms

“Four Freedoms” by Norman Rockwell

 

with hands that
could illustrate
moments in time
with eyes that saw into
the soul of a nation

①
blessed with liberty
voices speak freely
the simple the wise
inveigh government
brooking no censorship

②
blessed with liberty
hearts worship freely
the simple the wise
pray their conscience
without interference

③
blessed with liberty
hands produce freely
the simple the wise
earn honest rewards
wealth built unobstructed

④
blessed with liberty
lives enjoyed freely
the simple the wise
secure in their dreams
unoppressed by grave threat

familiar vignettes
relatable scenes
American realism
right for the joy of
a Saturday evening

 

 

From my book Pieces of Wine

Violation

Image from pinterest.com

 

databanks pull at our atoms
our bits of behavior
denuded of shadow
penumbras of privacy
stripped from our words
and opinions exchanged
via keystrokes and cellular pulses
transactions peculiarly personal
now lie spread-eagled
exposed to brass bureaucrats
secrets of modesty scrutinized
choices of habit form profiles
inferred inclinations
described in an evermore
sharp-raised relief
all in name of
benevolent government
smiling its mollifcations
paternalist duties invoked
with each unwelcome touch
of its impudent fingers
inside of our clothes
and our minds

 

 

(originally posted October 2013)

Libertarian Lament

 

Image from pinterest.com

 

 

you catapult your borrowed

oriental-grown blossoms

over the walls you lay under siege

and into the blazing ruins

of our bloodsweat-built village

scenting the fires consuming the future

as if you could demonstrate

your intentions are sweet

but each frantically scurrying

cat, dog and goat

instinctively knows the hard bitter truth

while they nonetheless scramble

cruelly fighting each other

for the too-few found flowers

unspoiled by the smoke and the ash

eating their petals in frenzies of self-preservation

hurling themselves

against timbered gates outside-barred

by the flatiron tongue of your strident ambition

they desperately seek their escape from the flames

and into your lesser-damned pockets

of privately planned

and publicly funded

tomorrows

 

 

(originally posted April 2013)

Backbone

 

This Norman Rockwell painting appeared in Look magazine in 1968.
                                    It is titled “The Right to Know.”  Here is the caption:                                                                                   
We are the governed, but we govern too.  Assume our love of country, for it is only the simplest of self-love.  Worry little about our strength, for we have our history to show for it.
And because we are strong, there are others who have hope.  But watch closely from now on, for those of us who stand here mean to watch those we put in the seats of power.
And listen to us, you who lead, for we are listening harder for the truth that you have not always offered us.
Your voice must be ours, and ours speaks of cities that are not safe, and of wars we do not want, of poor in a land of plenty, and of a world that will not take the shape our arms would give it.
We are not fierce, and the truth will not frighten us.  Trust us, for we have given you our trust.  We are the governed, remember, but we govern too.

 

 

 

where’s the parade
for the regular Joes
the everyday Janes
solid citizens
leading their lives
without drama
pursuing the dream
not illusions
seeking modestly
quiet contentment
respecting the rules
stoically struggling
to hurdle the obstacles
wantonly thrown
with ruling class glee
in their paths by a
government grown
to an insular bloat
disconnected from
people who bear
all the weight
of a civilized upright
exceptional nation
for they are the
spine of republic

 

 

(originally posted November 2013)

Poppies

 

“Poppy Field IV” by Diane S. Dean

 

 

petals drawn
through warm blood
drip their sacrifice
staining pressed
peaceful lapels
with remembrance
of lives never lived
beyond wars
lost to exigent
perils of politics
fouled with aggression
demanding and daring
the best of our youth
stand and fight
for the principled
causes of liberty

each generation
has answered that
terrible call
rising tall
to the challenge
each time without fail
laid their beautiful
bodies between
right and wrong
in those reddening
fields where their
valor would seed
and volition
would propagate
delicate monuments
flowers for heroes
to decorate memory

 

 

(originally posted November 2013)

Birthplace

“Perspectives of Mind” by Agsandrew

freedom conceived

is organic assertion

liberty its womb

intellectual creature

rational prey of dogma

Desert Snow

 

“Egyptian Revolution” by Hani Zurob

 

 

it’s been a hot century
mummies have melted
their binding dry
gauze catching fire
igniting rebellion
informed by dead
dynasties burning in
scalded sand agony
waiting for signal
that cruel Amun-Ra
has been vanquished
the curse of the sun
lifted giving to cool
cosmopolitan minds
a new future of
ambient liberty

 

 

(originally posted December 2013)

Americantis?

“Atlantis Sinking” by Regina Valluzzi

did Atlantis dissolve
in an ocean of shame
salty crystals corroding
her decadent footings
of empire placidly
mindless of once sturdy
virtue now quaking with
woken-mind grasp of
its negligent stewardship
bringing down stout
high towering ramparts
in one fateful night
cataclysmic dark hours
of torment and terror
sun worshipping stones
pulled by punishing gravity
into a mean steaming hiss
under waters unmarked
and unnamed lost forever
her grandeur and conquest
her burnished ennobled
confederacy of wise
law-giver kings so keenly
impressive to Plato
then all but forgotten
to maritime mists from
which shadowy legend
is all to be drawn of
brave people who once
lit the pillars of Hercules
white with benevolent
beacons of world saving
hegemon shining exemplar
of once sacred liberty

(original posted January 2014)

Kiev

“Dome, Kiev” by Anna Sokol

 

(Originally written February, 2014 upon Russia’s invasion of Ukrainian Crimea)

 

writhe at the unseen lingering touch
by Chernobyl fingers of Soviet hands
draw deep cleansing breaths
exhale liberty
over these broad ancient steppes
where the ancestral horse
was first tamed to the bit
and the burden of riders
where breadbasket wheat
sways in capital waves
over savory oilfields catering
menus of sham independence
it’s time for that spirited bloodline
those fiercely proud Carpatho-Rusyns
to rise from repression and
once and for all
plunge the dagger of freedom
right up to its self-declared hilt
in the slavering red hearted bear