About Us   Publish and be read! Poetry, lyrics, short stories, scripts, words of wisdom, features, memorials, blogs (a day in my life), memoirs, history, business, and I.T.
Home   Adults   Youngsters   The Plot Thickens   Publications  

More by this Author
© writebuzz® 2004-2019
All rights reserved.

The copyright of each of the publications on this site is retained by the author of the publication. writebuzz.com has been granted permission to display the publications under the terms and conditions of membership to the original site. Publications should not be copied in either print or electronic form without prior permission. Where permission is obtained the authors must be acknowledged. Thank you.
  You are @ HomeAdults Poetry


Source: Adults

Author: jonny graham

Title: Drowning in Subterfuge .

Condaleeza watches events unfold,
live on news bulletin t.v.
From half a world away ,
so remote and unseen .
With a condescending smile
she reaches out for the phone .
Calls direct to the White House,
but nobody's home.
She slowly crosses the room
and walks out into the night.
Hesitates to declare a state of emergency.
Worries in case she's not got it right.

Winston Stewart is tuning in
to weather reports on his c.b. radio.
His wife is crying because he is staying,
and he refuses point blank to go.
But what else can a man do
when the wind rattles the tin ?
Batten down the hatches ;
stay put , and refuse to give an inch.
Steely-eyed in the ghost town
that once was his local neighbourhood.
Waves goodbye to his family
and prepares to wait for the flood.

This is not the sort of place
where people can raise children .
What happened to all those promises
about reform and social revolution ?
We don't want to live in trailers
and listen to your hollow platitudes.
While you attend high-level meetings
and flaunt your oil-industry attitude.
And the protocol of politics
must weigh heavy on your shoulders.
You call it just one more fight ,
but for us the war is never over.

We hope that you sleep well
in your tax-payer funded feather bed.
While Winston struggles to cope
with the task of burying the dead.
Remember what his wife said
with tears welling in her eyes.
The kids they were waving
as she asked what way the coast is.
This aint the land of milk and honey ,
and it aint no bed of roses.

The rest of the world watched,
stunned and disbelieving.
Not sure what they were witnessing ,
or even what they were seeing.
Conflicts of conscience ,
caused by Capitol decieving.
Drowned by raw subterfuge
in the land of the free living.
You are very big on taking ,
but sadly lacking in forgiving.

And the bands still play
street-style funeral jazz music.
You still might be big
with your smiles on t.v.
And you enjoy to be seen
as one of the global v.i.p's.
The forgotten people still smile
in the after-storm sun.
And down here at street-level
your credibility is done.

Published on writebuzz®: Adults > Poetry

writebuzz®... the word is out!