Resistance Poetry 2020.12
In F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, the disembodied eyes of Dr. T.J. Eckleburg preside, unblinking, over a landscape of smoking industrial ash, byproduct of an uninhibited pursuit of wealth.
Are we living in that wasteland with a cardboard god casting his ineffectual judgement over our selfish pursuits? I don’t know. But it can sure feel like it when I’m in the right mood.
They say hindsight is 20/20, and the past year has certainly given us plenty to learn from if we are willing. But are we?
Is this the end? Is this the beginning? Is it both?
Though I hope for door number three, I stand with Jeffrey Field who, in his apocalyptic poem below, writes:
I shall be like the Norsemen of old.
I shall fight the fate this angry god has
placed upon the world.
I shall fight knowing
my cause is lost.
Not for fame,
not for glory,
not for accolades.
Because that is who I am.
P.S. — This is the last monthly collection of Resistance Poetry. Poems will continue to be posted, but the monthly recap will cease. Write on.
business as usual
At Carrefour you’ll find plenty: Rice, beans, eggs and more! All at your local grocery store. And please ignore the…
I wrote this in the summer, right when all the protesting started but didn’t want to share while it was still so raw.
F*ck you and 2020 too!
For my Auntie Susie, my cousin Tina, my Uncle Paul, my Princess Whitey (my cat) and everyone else we lost this year…
Six Hues In Pastel.
She said she felt blue—coursing through her veins like a matrix pill on steroids, but oddly enough, she hated haute…
Inter-wishing for Earth
I’m more impressed by ………………… a tangled embracing biodiversity …………………… a homeostasis of home harmonised
Dear Joe Biden A Brief Letter Poem From Your Progressive Admirers
After all the hurt and insanity of the last four years, we just wanted to sing a sweet song of relief and relax for a…
The Red Wolf Bays at the Silver Moon
The Red Wolf bays at the silver moon. I feel his tears run down my face. His time on Earth is ending soon. For him…
sitting Here against my will sweating and the jewels feel prickly on my hairline. i think of your hands there instead…
A Christmas Goodbye to a Toad and his Toadies
It took a million trials, plus some hearings, I am told, Finally! He’s going. Still, our nerves are rocked and rolled…
My personal Anthem
Glitter spangled Transgender girl. Shining through hate. Glowing away from bigotry. Sparkling with authenticity.
Am I A Rude Scrooge?
Do I have screws loose because I think our vision of Christmas, of love, creates new fools?
Have You Heard of Mississippi
Have you heard of Mississippi Have you heard her Muddy Waters Do you know the many sighs Of New Orleans and her…
What a miracle it is that the Earth birds sing Not enough their soft feathers and tails with rings Nor the glory of…
A List of Demands on Tuesday
I want Russian literature German music Italian paintings African dances Swiss chocolate Swedish pornography Japanese…