Monday, November 23, 2015

Academy of American Poets - by Bob Atkinson

Academy of American Poets
(c)2015 Bob Atkinson

here we have in our land
a purposed version of that band
which tears across a broad landscape
taking words up to scrape

scrape language from gray dust
and bring glory down to us
for words arranged in bright patterns
focused here with ideas not tattered

yet, when we trust them to lead
us in our journey on feeble steed
we find them lacking in broad skill
to cull out garbage from this mill

where grains get crushed of seeds so bright
instead of planting rows of light
they plant here feces on our page
and let us think we've been enlightened

but, in reality 'tis a charade
where purpose languishes today
our country's words don't mean much
in view of this rotten dust

will they wake up someday
and square away this awful page
of literature deranged
or will we still get muck on our shoes

well, I for one will stand up tall
and say to them "get on the ball"
don't feed me droppings from the horse
give me words that stay the course

No comments:

Post a Comment