Backlogged poetry

Struggling to make time for writing. Playing catch-up. But here are the latest two.

The American Constitution

The text. An old painfully scribed
Parchment full of good intentions,
But a vision without vision. Even
Utopia can be bought out by men
And women whose interest in the
Lowest common denominator is
To abuse and use it. A large number
Divided by a small one remains a
Large number. The text remains
Behind bulletproof glass, ignored,
Corrupted, its faults exploited by
The future which is now.

R 06/02/2025 14:57

Need

No measure of this, no way
Of understanding the pain of
It. Numbers can’t explain or
Illustrate it, nor make it more
Real than it already is. It is
A constant. Night and day.
Outstretched hands. Forgotten
Bodies mummify in unknown
Places. The rich don’t care, in
Their comfort, the safe ignore.
And still it festers, kills, preys, grows.
Someone has to care.

R 06/02/2025 20:46