Abram the Hebrew

Mammonite pretender, see the Khazar:
Out of place in the Biblical bazaar;
Fattening his financial calf of gold
Maintaining clueless goyim bought and sold.

Abram the nomad mixed milk with his meat
Walked the Fertile Crescent on his own feet;
Summoned from the Chaldees, uncircumcised
Long before that temple was realized.
From Babylon to Egypt, passing through,
Jerusalem came briefly into view.
He lived. He walked right out of the Archaic
To shatter every legalist’s mosaic.
Beholding now God’s current Middle East,
(Collective funeral more than wedding feast)
The Bedouin seem to model more the way:
hospitable intents at close of day.

Four hundred years would pass before they saw
That wilderness of Sinai and the Law;
Commandments Moses knew could never save.
We judge them by accounts their Torah gave:
Twelve generations later . . . what a joke.
The righteousness consumed in holy smoke
As Israel descended, worse than Cain,
to civil wars on Sodom’s fruitless plain.
In Judges we behold the steep descent
Read well the signs. Be warned—and then repent.
A scene for every Judaistic dream:
Depravity is worse than it may seem.
Your concubine, dismembered at your door,
May light the shortened fuse of civil war.


Questioning the Almanac

 

The Weather is dull, all Flora, withered—
Into Poetry’s ruins snakes have slithered;
Customs forgotten, sick mammals slain.
Now vampires infect me: porn on the brain…

While Disney exports multicultural trash
The vatos and thugs burn the barrio to ash.
Yet my lovely muse lifts me above the crisis:
Revealing conspiracy as rational analysis;
In her shimmering shroud, she defies the fates.
My hometown nostalgia out-bunkers Bill Gates;
I look out my window. Joy turns to mass death:
Old love-letters blown on Corona-breath.

I hide unicorn carcasses from my daughter.
Instead, we read Exodus: angels, plagues, slaughter.
She’s too young to know what is sold in the street
Or whether Hondurans arrive on their feet
And if what they carry is bitter or sweet . . .
Our online Amazon: jungle or obituary?
Webster just shrugs. It’s not in his dictionary.

 

PROMPT #26:
fill out the following Almanac Questionnaire.
Use your responses as the basis for a poem.

Weather: dull
Flora: withered
Architecture: ruins
Customs: forgotten
Mammals/reptiles/fish: snakes and pangolins
Childhood dream: Dracula
Found on the Street: porn mags
Export: Disney
Graffiti: Chicano gangs
Lover: my muse
Conspiracy: rational analysis
Dress: shroud
Hometown memory: nostalgia
Notable person: BIll Gates
Outside your window, you find: joy
Today’s news headline: mass death
Scrap from a letter: thrown out
Animal from a myth: unicorn
Story read to children at night: Exodus
Walk three minutes down an alley and find: heroin
You walk to the border and hear: scheming Hondurans
What you fear: consumerism
Picture on your city’s postcard: Noah Webster

Soured

 

Sociopath usurpers rise to the top
Floating above mere human resources:
Doubtful cream of a churned and churning crop
Soulless spawn of data-driven forces.

I long to see them finally confounded;
I’ll laugh as they leap from towering losses
Their assets seized, liquefied, impounded . . .
May God repay our sociopath bosses!

 

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/23/3d/91/233d913efbcaebd13762221dd2f45d72.jpg

 

 

PROMPT #22: use an idiomatic phrase as the jumping-off point for your poem.

(The cream of the crop…)