Scars Of Oppression
We are not mountains, and never will be.
Mountains are stone heights, welcoming
Sky - snow-capped like Hebrew hats.
We will never be that. Not robed at our feet
With trees, breathing in the light and shadows. No,
There is no place for that, after the slaves of history
Have been martyred in city and in field.
We will never be the glory among the stars,
All men walking free, as long as we can remember
The whip and chain of insane delight
That make a frightened thing of night and day.
We can not go our way in peace, as long
As we recall the wrongs man has done
To man -. We are not gods, who would see
The future of our history with power
That, in the coming hour, may be different -
That may be another valley or a river, smoothing out
Our memories. We have traveled too far
Along the highway of disdain,ever
To come back again. Our time will go on
A pestilence to whatever lives in heaven; and then,
Time will greet eternity, and blow away
All memory of our forgetful progeny…!
The Old World Becomes The New
Cucarachas and goat-skin drums
The mealy music of Mozart
The whole thing plummeting towards the still Earth
The dancing Earth! Palpable.
The knives of discotheque music under strobe-lights
Like stars intermingling through dark air -
The forms of delivered corn, vegetables on the table
Now the vast rows of florescent produce. Automobiles -
Un-equestrianed in the life of independence.
Winged planes coming and going in ancient heaven. Discussion
Of life and death, now the computers, now
“Dias Del Las Muertas”, now the life in the streets - walking
Through the pyramids of condominiums; native flutes
Which rattle with the arias of Verdi -; the noon-day traffic -.
All this and much, much more; breaking through the door
Of unknown quantities and qualities, to the aching
Welcome of eternal infinite