by Julie Steiner
Apologies this week abounded.
Coffeehouses said, “We’re grounded!”
Starbucks got de-albatrossed.
(Astronomical, the cost.)
Apologies were everyplace
while Facebook went on saving face.
That launched a thousand ads. (Relation-
ships were shown. And desperation.)
Apologies came thick and fast:
“That reckless stage of ours is past.
We’ve reined it in,” proclaimed Wells Fargo;
Disney let a lowered Barr go.
Apologies were this week’s style.
Uber overcame denial.
Since perverts squeezed their bottom line,
they're preaching, "To forgive’s divine."
Apologies, though très en vogue,
are clothes one emperor-slash-rogue
won’t deign to don. He shuns contrition:
bare-faced lies draw less suspicion.
Julie Steiner gets snarky in San Diego.
Today's News . . . Today's Poem
The New Verse News
presents politically progressive poetry on current events and topical issues.
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Showing posts with label apologies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label apologies. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 06, 2018
Friday, July 01, 2016
THE POPE IS LIKE A REPUBLICAN SENATOR
by James M. Croteau
Apologies are like prayers
without action. Catholic claims
of intrinsically disordered and
contrary to natural law are like
allowing Sig Sauer MCXs and
AR-15s to be purchased with
no restrictions. Sorry's not enough.
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Apologies are like prayers
without action. Catholic claims
of intrinsically disordered and
contrary to natural law are like
allowing Sig Sauer MCXs and
AR-15s to be purchased with
no restrictions. Sorry's not enough.
James M. Croteau lives in Kalamazoo, Michigan with his partner of 31 years, Darryl, and their two Labrador retrievers. Jim grew up gay and Catholic in the U.S. south in the 60’s and 70’s and his writing often reflects that experience. His poems have appeared in TheNewVerse.News, Right Hand Pointing, Queer South: LGBTQ Writers on the American South and Assaracus: A Journal of Gay Poetry among others. His first chapbook will be published by Redbird Chapbooks in 2016. He occasionally blogs about writing at talkingdogsholymen.blogspot.com.
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Monday, January 05, 2015
FLASHES
by Jo-Ann Reid

We trade causes like children playing at double-dutch; tagged in and out like committee positions trading lip-service leaving the sheen of caring. Which cops are on the take? Why aren’t the good ones shouting to the rafters? Which are massaging bullets erect in flimsy pockets and digging for press conference notes? Anticipate the groove of pen strokes feigning apologies; the inflation of yellow tape and chalk the same shade that black boy used to trace; committing his own name to cursive.
Armored with gold coins some toss their blinding hair, glimmer in branded outfits from thousand-dollar plate dinner guests gorged on handshakes and conjured commitment.
Dialed-in causes that will do nothing but pluck our peacock feathers. Hooked on our own coins; the best parts of ourselves devoured; and still--our tongues click with unrest.
Are we any different?
We trade causes like children playing at double-dutch; tagged in and out like committee positions trading lip-service leaving the sheen of caring. Which cops are on the take? Why aren’t the good ones shouting to the rafters? Which are massaging bullets erect in flimsy pockets and digging for press conference notes? Anticipate the groove of pen strokes feigning apologies; the inflation of yellow tape and chalk the same shade that black boy used to trace; committing his own name to cursive.
Armored with gold coins some toss their blinding hair, glimmer in branded outfits from thousand-dollar plate dinner guests gorged on handshakes and conjured commitment.
Dialed-in causes that will do nothing but pluck our peacock feathers. Hooked on our own coins; the best parts of ourselves devoured; and still--our tongues click with unrest.
Are we any different?
Jo-Ann Reid is an Associate Professor of English at Dean College in Franklin, MA. The youngest daughter of established Haitian immigrants, her work explores cross-cultural boundaries, gender, restriction and issues of social injustice. Ms. Reid won a poetry contest judged by Harryette Mullen while earning her MFA at The Pennsylvania State University.
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