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Poetry on the Redneck Patio
Welcome to the Patio. Have a mint julep, sit for a bit, and relax.
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Beware
The wolfWears sheep's clothing
A werewolf
As it were.
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Evergreen
A greenish persistencyIs the loblolly of southern pines.
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Balloon
My poisoned bald headYet grows a field of fine grass
Sparse and light
Waving in the wind
Sensing every eddy and shift
A magnificent weather balloon.
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Dance
We drink the last of the mint julepsI dance with Death
The Grim Reaper is light on his feet
I grab his scythe and twirl it
He cowers and flees
I have discovered the secret
To living.
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Anyway
My walking stick keeps me pointedIn the right direction
I grip it as if it is the only connection
I have left to the Earth
Sometimes I'm sure it is
Because something in me
Left this world and flew away
I am no longer sure
I can get it back
But I go through the motions
Anyway
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Choose
There is hell in heavenThere is heaven in hell
Heavens, how the hell do we choose?
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Bears
The bear went over the mountainHe saw another bear
The bear saw him
Bears kept coming
Backed up for miles
Like a barbershop mirror
The song got slower and slower
Maybe we go with mountains next time.
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Crows
The crows are waryThey eye the corn I spread on the ground
I am a scarecrow
My yearning for friendship
Is too blatant to be real.
They have outsmarted me.
The corn is always gone in the morning
And the deer have knowing looks
In their black eyes.
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Funky
Elastical wrap itWang bang and snap it
Tease it on top
Drop it deep to the pop
We can only abide
And feel funky inside.
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Might
Last stand.The desperate death throes
Of right-white dominance
Are an ugly reminder
Of where we've been
And where we might be going.
Might.
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Hero
The child berates the HeroAs if the Hero is a child.
The Hero patiently suffers
As his people have suffered
Fighting for democracy
Against evil.
Only to sit in the den of the New Evil
And be told he should lick the boots
Of the coward that has given him up
And given the cause of freedom up
Through his own vile and soiled conceit.
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Echoes
College graduatesHigh School dropouts
All fall into the swirling echo chambers.
It's too easy
Too self-satisfying
Not to consider
Not to hear each other.
Toilets flush
Leaving nothing
But the lingering stink
Of bigotry.
Echoes of a once great nation.
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