I’ve hammered out
Three hundred ninety poems,
Some bent and skewed,
Some polished
And quite bright.
Occasionally
I canonize a pet,
Exalt my wife and sons,
And revel in the mystery
Of sun, moon, stars.
But mostly I decry
The mess the masses
Have contrived
Through advertising,
Greed, theology, and politics.
For three thousand years
We’ve preached morality,
Teach it in school,
Then graduate into
Murderous, insane reality.
If ever a book
Of my bitter verse appears—
My history of ego and of nations—
Its title will declare its motivation:
A Sequel to The Book of Lamentations
(9/26/13)