Not much left for me here
Penniless poet
Pockets full of pills
Going to war with only
An arsenal of word & wit
Historians record verbatim
Religions stick to the books
The holy poets, seers & prophets of
The young 21st century
Speak their own truths.
Howls etched into memory
Trials for obscenity
Black lists, communists.
Hitler’s hellish pogroms.
Atlantic and Arabic slave trades.
Political prisoners as labour.
You forget your dead comrades,
Struck down by the hand of madness, depression, suicide,
Alcohol poisoning fentanyl overdose
Government issue bullets, tasers, starvation.
The poet is the weather vane of their time.
Sappho, Milton, Homer, Ginsberg, Estep,
Angelou, Hughes, Dylan, Carroll
Will the paper be buried in plastic?
In simplicity & cellphone factories
Carcinogenic killers,
Concentration camps
Prison factories?
–Jack Blare
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