Sleepwear

What can you do with a nation in pajamas
Shuffling around in marijuana smoke?
How can dignity be restored
To those who barely possessed it?

(BURNING JOKE)

What can u do w/a nation in pajamas
Whose baby-mamas wait for government checks?
How can a people be taught to read
Who only live to peruse their phone ?

(TELE-SEX)

What can u do w/a nation in pajamas
Rolling-jiggling toward morbidly obese?
How will that nation be made to grasp
That poverty is learned response ?

(MORE POLICE)


PROMPT 22

write a poem that invokes a specific object as a symbol of a particular time, era, or place.

Farewell, Welfare

 

I sing of life at state expense
a state devoid of common sense
addicted to obesity
impolitic in body weight
yet headed for austerity
as other people’s money ends
plebeian class-revolt transcends
our bureaucratic history.

They stack the monthly welfare decks
complain the service second-rate
those sullen clients, thankless louts
pajama-clad with tattooed pouts
whose girlfriends swell while babies cry;
the fathers mumble, sagging high
and wait in lines. The women try
to fool the lunar period
conceptions waxing myriad
while teenage dads discover sex
and social workers cash the checks
the daily urban nightmare is
enough to scare a nation broke
in clouds of marijuana smoke:
the cashless global mystery.

The breeders born in tropic lands
are tempted till they take the bait
no baby-momma understands
what family means, what life demands
Your undertakers overstate
in order to remunerate
your Democratic history:
a bankrupt urban mystery
the not-so-Great Society.

The ghetto sperm-donation ploy
makes babies but maintains the boy
to run around from mom to mom
slow-motion population bomb
as if to merely demonstrate
that social program funders wait
till number-crunchers aggravate
the urban teenage welfare state.

 

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