Half-Blood Prince
(Father and Son in July, Part II)
 
 
Our home child
where fat cat politicians
and corporate greed octopuses
share the bed, bought with the people’s blood
is where
Generation Next fights off
the temple’s tentacles
and wonders why it’s so hard to shut your eyes
it’s so hard to shut your eyes
 
Our home, child
where “protect and serve”
is replaced with “it depends on whom you know”
is where
school kids run for cover
between history books and bullets
and wonder why it’s so hard to shut your eyes
it’s so hard to shut your eyes
 
Our home, child
where I pay my tax
and all I get is anthrax
is where
Texan good ole’ Boys
bubble in the thick, warm flow
of Arabian black gold
and wonder why it’s so hard to shut your eyes
it’s so hard to shut your eyes
 
Our home, child
where it doesn’t take a prophet
to see the horror of tomorrow
is where
a young New Jersey poet
shares the bounty of the prize
and knows why it’s so hard to shut your eyes
it’s so hard to shut your eyes
 
copyright 2001, Frank Messina
 
Next Poem
 
Main Poetry Index

home