More Poems

Cobalt Morning




Hounding the huge glass
housing your corporate stricture,
the cobalt morning reaches into
your window, supplanting your duties,
beckoning the long denied in you
like the growing need for food.

The blue enjoins you without mist today,
clear and obvious,
drafting that part of you so long unsaluted:
departure onto real cliffs and slopes,
face awash in crisp air,
with trees preaching quiet psalms.
That place with no right angles;
longer and deeper than a calendar.

Even the caveats plaited into
your company soul
cannot withstand the tincture
of this curving temporal blue.
At lunch you come heaving outside
onto the vague cement,
whisking a breath,
considering some personal diagram
to explain this troubling impulse.
You’ll try to put it
into perspective;
convert and align the gnawing fathoms
into something that can be
formatted, and perhaps
even faxed.




CEO - The World


The Inner Circle
formulates our New World Order
with a menu of self interest
more profound than a
new vaccination.
More truculent than a
non-cabinet Republican
who thinks he’s in the loop.

Lopsided Men,
wag tongues with covert operatives,
demons sporting close cropped hair,
lighting their cigars with the
Bill of Rights
on Persian carpets at Capitol Hill
or in a five sided building, and sometimes,
the big house on Pennsylvania avenue.

These policies serve huge interests
that hide under cover of
the Security Council,
State department,
or our economy.

Putrid priorities blacken
the back side of
sunny billboards.
Corporate multinational
tyranny thrives,
spun through willing banks.
Endless weapons distribution
stokes pathetic conflicts and
convenient despots.

Geopolitical decisions rake the earth
as the stratosphere thins.
People choke and grow more lesions;
so tremendous Presidential and
Congressional P.R. machines
create COPY,
dished out to us like cool melon
in the desert of leadership.
We, pop culture consumers.

What skillful treachery,
holistic treason,
fuel these preeminent deceivers.
New world order indeed.

-HM