Bernie burns his flame
using up all the last
hopes of my generation
of late 60’s all my contemporary
artists have died in January
cancer laughs as fake in its
pretense of power as Wall Street who owns it
earlier a dear friend left
suddenly then bone friend
Ellen lost her husband/father
in what seemed like days
i pray a silence of listening
nothing else makes sense
words are lame here
it’s superbly cold
nights light,,,days dark
money scarce work oppressive
we live an era of horror
disguised as prosperity
we sip our coffee for
a way to make it through
we give and give and still
they ask for more the religions
the governments the owner robber barons
give your taxes go to war tithe and volunteer
I dream of Silvana Cenci long ago
friend who sculpted with explosives
she’s looking for an old friend recognized
only by her purple hat like the part of me
who created business, taught prisoners, imported
beauty, took care of lost girls, performed poetry
where is the vision i lost in the whirl
of living went to graduate school
to accumulate huge debt and lose my
way wanted to make films a joke
even more laughable when I lived in Hollywood
my screenplay there in a long line of everyone
I think maybe we are checking out too tired
to start again, to burst through more barriers
too old to be let in anywhere we used to go
too young to die, too broke to live, too
lost to figure it out, ready to move
on but without a clue we simply die
deep in my breast i feel the war cry of
my ancestors rising, i wail, but without tears
i’m standing on the wall screaming look over here
nothing we’re seeing is real, life has love
thrives on truth and caring gives out of desire
is as abundant as a tree seeding to overcome drought
we are still here, many of us
gathering for a last push toward love
i mean toward working gentle and strong
giving what we were born to give not what
the monster tells us, we’ll make a village
small at first but viral in its power
exploding into beauty we light the flame together. Amen.
Poet Jude's Poetry 