Monday, July 24, 2006

New York City ( A Poem )

At Ground Zero

Matthew Lee, 11/7/01

We who fluctuate between the weather and Dow Jones We who pull democracy's lever while holding our noses We still drawn to the cold beer and hair-trigger Jeremiads Neither cops nor tourists, we ghoulishly peruse the ruins--
A million vagabond minds blown like leaves down Wall Street Wooden-teethed nation-builders rant on marble stairs We calculate the cubic feet of terrorists' self-expression Seek to secede from a band of mud hut video gamers--
In whose name does this aluminum powder burn? Who counts white powder grains and proclaims their origin? News anchors parse the tyrant's indictment Today's accuser tomorrow sees his assets froze--
While warrantless searches replicate Pawnshops of Columbus relentlessly pounded By corn-fed special agents, with vacuum and badge They siphon our minds, cleansing all treasonous doubts...
* * *


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Kold_Kadavr_flatliner said...

Fact is, dude, I’ll croak, you’ll croak, all of U.S. will croak someday at sometime; then, we must face the King of the Universe to determine whether we achieve Heaven. So don’t get so caught-up in this passing earth you lose your immortal soul. PS I gave up my hard-won, black belt to fight for Heaven. Wotya gonna give up, brudda? God blessa youse -Fr. Sarducci, ol SNL.