by Wayne Scheer
"i wanted to write
a poem
that rhymes
but revolution doesn't lend
itself to be-bopping."
Nikki Giovanni wrote that
in 1968,
and although
we've stopped tossing around
the word revolution
like Naples pizza bakers,
her poem
still speaks.
Like Nikki,
I'd like to write about
green trees
and blue skies
but with massacres
in Colorado and Syria
all I see is red.
I try turning away
from gory death images
but talk of Romney's taxes
and Obama's birth certificate
fill my ears
like so much
cesspool slime.
"perhaps these are not poetic
times
at all,"
Nikki wrote.
I nod,
wondering
what the hell happened
to the revolution.
Wayne Scheer has been nominated for four Pushcart Prizes and a Best of the Net. He's published stories, poems and essays in print and online, including Revealing Moments, a collection of flash stories, published by Thumbscrews Press (http://issuu.com/pearnoir/docs/revealing_moments). Wayne lives in Atlanta with his wife and can be contacted at wvscheer(at)aol.com.
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