Saturday, July 23, 2011

This Time

This summer 
in this city
brings me back to troubled times
announced in hushed tones 
on black 
and white 
tv; it formed the soundtrack of our lives. 

This time it's so hot 
that money melts 
quicker than we can make it;
quicker than the company 
can decide 
to put enough aside
to throw our way
like the the biblical rich man
to the dogs.

This time, the violence is horrifically new
and yet, pit-of-the-stomach familiar. 
All in HD
24 hours a day
for our eternal

This time, we are walled away, 
each alone in our 
climate-controlled cubicle 
complete with computer 
that goes everywhere we go
to distract us
from reality. 

It is happening again,
but this time, 
I don't see

a revolution. 

1 comment:

iis said...

nearly with love

Poems © Gemma W. Wilson