the wrinkled lined face.
i don’t recognize the mask
as he stares at me.
private thrones
the cat’s privacy
more important than the meow.
for the sitting throne.
yummy tummy
the cat’s furry tummy
exposed to my wrinkled hands.
soft as pudding.
the ups and downs
the fight starts with heart
but the mind must continue.
fall down then get up.
mind yoga
arthritic knuckle
foreshadows encroaching age.
angst for limber mind.
give me liberty or…
a desperate people
can be led by wolves
and they don’t even need
sheep’s clothing.
the great empire
buckles at its knees
and the death rattle
is mistaken for
a rallying cry.
the dog’s bark is loudest
when it has no bite.
as liberty’s light dims
and justice peeks from
behind gossamer blindfold
the blind lead the desperate
to the cliff of lemmings.
one can hope that a few
will clear the cobwebs
that the moneyed have spun
and see clearly that
democracy cannot be run
by mongols and the hun.
and however dark this night
it inches closer to the dawn
and souls must bare witness
and flicker the flame of hope
for now is the time
for honest men to speak
and break the bully’s pulpit
for the devil wears no clothes
and his backbone is weak.
liberty is the trunk
upon which democracy cannot break.
but the hacking at the root
is all evil
and there’s not enough
wood in those hacked limbs
to warm the cold nights
if the money wins
and the brave give up the fight.