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Showing posts with label Rushmore. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rushmore. Show all posts

Monday, July 06, 2020

WALKING DEAD

by Jeremy Nathan Marks



The Lakota people  consider the Black Hills to be sacred ground; it was originally included in the Great Sioux Reservation. The United States broke up the territory after gold was discovered in the Black Hills. The mountain into which the Rushmore figures wer carved is known to the Lakota Sioux as Six Grandfathers. Photo: Six Grandfathers circa 1905. Source: Wikipedia.


On the eve of the fourth
in Lincoln’s shadow
on sacred ground
of the Lakota and Cheyenne
downwind of the dust
of an unfinished bust
of Crazy Horse
not one of his kin asked for
a sitting president defending
the Stars and Bars
its politicians, generals and adjutants
to extolling chants of

USA! USA!

What do you say to a drop in
from a fortified copter flying
the Great White Father
over crowds of people whose lands
these stone monstrosities smother
carvings made at the hand of a man
who sympathized with the Klan
a troupe of Confederate brethren
keeping alive the dream of Calhoun
interposition, the antebellum masculine
to thwart a more perfect union?

Carve the face of the great emancipator
beside slaveholders and Teddy R.

I think the fourth is in danger of becoming
a mausoleum because we do not vet
the monument builders
history stalks the land like the undead
in a high ratings show many of us watch
on television.


Jeremy Nathan Marks lives in London, Ontario. Recent work is appearing at Isacoustic, So It Goes, Muddy River, Wilderness House Literary Review, and The Right Life.

Thursday, August 10, 2017

SWAGGER TIME

by Michael Brockley
Image source: OKdoodle


After VICE reports that White House staffers deliver a folder filled with complimentary news twice a day to Donald T***p.


You’ve got that Ron Jeremy thing going, what with your necktie bulging from your crotch. The alpha dog always lets the runway walkers know what he’s packing. You're numero uno in Chico, CA and Beattyville, KY. You're not yet tired of winning. The picture of you in this morning’s paper grasped the essence of your majesty. That angle where your shoulders could almost be a wall. Your Rushmore jaw. Your golden mane. No wonder some kid from West Virginia rated you the all-time greatest president for infinity. Better than that guy with a big stick. You've only been the Leader of the Free World seven months, but those blondes on FOX keep saying you're a lock for 2020. The graph-drawing dweebs and pollsters had to invent higher numbers just for you. Like the newest figures on the bottom line of your bank accounts. In Muscle Shoals Ted Nugent and Kid Rock have recorded an album of Trump anthems, naming the first single “Make America Great Again.” A release date set in time to fight the war on Christmas. By the way, “Covfefe Snow” would make a stirring Christmas carol for 3 Doors Down. Along the border, folks are volunteering to carry bricks for your wall. The Army Corps of Engineers herds jaguars and roadrunners across the Rio Grande while handing out free MAGA hats. Like you, everyone in Brownsville wears an extra-large. Tomorrow Jeopardy debuts a category they're calling America’s Greatest Hits. The answer to every question will be “Who is Donald Trump?” All the world’s First Ladies wish they could ride Air Force One with you.


Michael Brockley is a 67-year old Hoosier who retired from a 31-year career as a school psychologist in northeast Indiana. A few of his poems have appeared in past editions of TheNewVerse.News, and recent poems were published in Atticus Review, Gargoyle and Jokes Review. Poems are forthcoming in the Tipton Poetry Journal.