Douglas Polk

a country,
a feud,
two hundred and fifty years old,
bursting through the years to modern time,
both sides,
disappointed,
keeping track of misdeeds,
generation after generation,
bloodshed justified by both sides,
biased by the pain,
through the years,
never resolved,
or ending,
the mark of Cain,
a communal mark,
on every head.

men in suits,
and ties,
tribal warriors,
battling for turf,
believed their own,
naïve ignorant bastards,
boundaries shift,
and borders in dispute,
fears flamed,
culture assigned,
along with taxes.

eyes on no one,
he rants and raves,
head back,
looking at the upper corner of the waiting room,
told to shut up,
he quietly grins,
as if the joke is on others,
the ones missing out,
too sane to argue with,
the specters,
in the upper corners of the room.

The whiskey burns,
chasing the fruit loops down my throat,
she enters the room,
and sniffs the air,
silence reigns,
until depression invades,
an army she unknowingly leads,
taken captive years ago,
whiskey my only cure,
keeping alive the hope in the soul,
someone will find me,
or maybe,
allow a prisoner exchange.

a nation at war with itself,
pain inflicted both left and right,
problems never addressed,
crises continue to build,
pressure cookers,
made into bombs by the politically inept,
the philosophy of government unravels,
wait for the polling data,
build a consensus,
and let the people decide,
gridlock prevails,
as citizens arm themselves in the streets,
awaiting Armageddon.

irredeemable the soul within my core,
irreverent the tongue within my mouth,
irreconcilable my spirit with my mind,
irreparable the state of my health,
irresponsible the actions of my body,
yet I live one day,
awaiting the next,
hopeful for better days,
praying my life relevant,
at least in some small way.

the Recession of 2008,
a bastard child,
unclaimed by Republican or Democrat,
though both were fucking the mom,
repeatedly,
she a tight-lipped bitch,
unwilling or unable to say who is ultimately to blame,
four years old,
the child dull and slow witted,
costing trillions to raise,
condoms ought to be a necessity for future politicians,
and political campaigns.

A dog dying on my living room floor,
The vet said only a matter of time,
pain killers given for the pain,
but what of the rest of us,
dying always only a matter of time,
Where are my pills?

The Righteous,
like a twitter or tweet gone viral,
attacking the world,
a call to arms,
The Chosen,
like Israel into Canaan,
justified by God,
the inhabitants must die,
The Elite,
Manifest Destiny,
flood the plains with ignorant immigrant Europeans,
the bible read for justification,
a New Canaan,
remade with death and destruction,
The Patriots,
a cry through the decades,
the Communists from Cuba,
the terrorists from Tehran,
The Predestined,
code for control,
code for righteousness,
Moving people out,
a skill we Americans possess,
our heritage, our justification,
our right,
Moving people out,
it is what we do.