Roberta Gould, 7/11

Thumb Suckers

The earth vomits up its dead
All the murdered who lie underfoot
Nothing is flushed to the void
Forever we trip
Limbs contorted,
Weapons rusted
Poisons exuded

We imagine we’re free and forget
we are back in our cages..
round and round we go
trained to defeat, plodding on

When the year changes
we push rock up hill
It rolls down and crushes us
over and over

Our words boomerang
if there’s good intent
Otherwise we missile to the other side
and kill
Life is expendable!

Yet we persist in our ways
though we speak of miracles
Not ants or butterflies,
we suck our thumbs

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”

The back rooms were busy
as Napoleon started to fall
and new types of murder were devised
for the future with neat map change

But in the sophisticated theater of the absurd
two hundred years later
where a million lieutenants believed
they were holding golden apples

the people didn’t how to read
aside from the engineers of evil
the 2nd or 3rd in command
with their pipeline to Puppet for a Day

So it was was repeated one more time!
with guffaws or with shrieks from the tortured
as the birds faded, the cicadas electrically buzzed
and a few stomachs gurgled, after the banquet

Promote. Poetry.
FacebookTwitterGoogle+PinterestBlogger PostTumblrGoogle GmailLineYahoo MailRediff MyPageKindle ItGoogle BookmarksShare