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North American Dreaming: What Will The Poets Do?

...And we the poets,
With pen in hand,
Write of all things,
Except the deaths of our fellow man,
Our comrades, enemies, innocents too!...

In these troubling times poets can reveal the big lies, as William Burkholder's powerful poem confirms.

We pen the chronicles of a new age,
Of a new century,
Young in years,
But with a sorted past.
Do we carry the lessons from those bygone days?
Or are we cursed to never change our ways?
Spinning in vicious circles,
Out of control,
At ever increasing numbers of the death toll.
Morbid witness to carnage unleashed,
In the cities and towns of the Mideast.
Baghdad, Kabul, the list goes on,
Such Hell released on all involved.
And we the poets,
With pen in hand,
Write of all things,
Except the deaths of our fellow man,
Our comrades, enemies, innocents too!
Aye, we pen the chronicles of a new age.
What will our words tell the future?
What will our poetry Impart?
The answer lies in the tip of your pen,
At keyboards,
Fingertips tapping,
While politicians,
Napping,
Fashion pine boxes with lethargy's nail.
Blue suited instigators of death and high prices,
Red tied, brain fried, They have lied, lied, lied!
And faithful heroes, wrapped in flags
Draped in mourning,
While politicians eating the swag,
The treasure of life from their eyes.
And what will the poets do?

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