All Mixed Up
The times, they are a changin’, slowly, in straw-and-stick house ways.
And the wolf? He’s still at the door. Breathing down our necks.
The privileged will cling to their mighty height and eat pork whenever they can.
And should they fall, one or all, down and out and cracked irrepairably,
others already eagerly prepare for the scramble
to the top, to the top, to the towering top in a race
up the bean stock, in the great cloud
the better to count you with
oh, my precious.
Where is Jack? We need Jack!
And the clever, pink, unionized piggies!
Who are those golden-egg laying hens the giants keep?
By Trish Welsh Taylor - 11/29/11
THE TEARFUL STATUE OF LIBERTY
There stands a stately statue on our shore
That holds the burning torch of liberty
And boasts to all it has an open door,
Inviting huddled masses to be free.
It was a gift from France across the sea
To laud America's experiment
Of representative democracy
And pure humanitarian intent.
And though its structure is maintained and cleaned
For way too long its meaning has been lost,
Its symbols quite forgotten and demeaned
And sheds huge tears at all the human cost.
But now I see the statue dry its tearful eyes
As Occupiers in the nation rise in size.
-- By Sam Catalano 11/30/2011
The House of Anonymous in Session
The Confessor's House
is 872 feet
along the river
guarded by the Lionhearted horseman.
Common and Lordly,
from Thorney, Saxon and on to MPs,
offer their stories
and remember the 5th of November.
In the Year of Our Lord 1605;
of the Catholic cannon of Guy Fawkes.
You're an atheist
872 feet away
along the sidewalk
guarding your identity in a mask;
Common against lords,
like Gandhi or King or Egyptian kids
whose battle stories
have now, in Treason, long since been forgot.
I'd like to ask if you are Catholic
in that grim, fake face.
Do you know the reason for Bonfires?
-- by Hannah Hill 11/29/11
Four Thoughts in November, 2011
* What does hope look like when the public square smells of pepper and tears?
* Arms woven, elbow to elbow, a thin fabric of humanity make, a line of flesh in the sand, no wave can wash away.
*A cheek turned the other way, an act of faith, an offer of redemption, a chance for the video camera to focus.
*The public park, a safe and happy playground for the commoners, where we gather, where we assemble and speak, where big brother demonstrates down upon the children of the homeland.
-- Trish Welsh Taylor 11/2011