Lawrence Beck

Lawrence Beck Poems

1. Erica 2/7/2017
2. Ariel 2/9/2017
3. The Regrettable Existence Of An Iron Filing 2/10/2017
4. Fading To Black Gracefully 2/11/2017
5. Tasteless: Me Pretending To Be A Prisoner In Auschwitz 2/13/2017
6. In The Middle Of Nebraska 2/14/2017
7. Yr Obt Svt 2/15/2017
8. Lunch? 2/17/2017
9. Can't I Just Skip Ahead To The Conclusion? 2/20/2017
10. My Turtle Dove 2/22/2017
11. Silence Is Leaden 2/24/2017
12. Sorry, You're Not On The Guest List 2/24/2017
13. Lovely Lives 2/25/2017
14. In The Begonia House Of The Wellington Botanic Garden 2/28/2017
15. I'm Keeping My Jacket Close At Hand 2/28/2017
16. Oink 3/1/2017
17. Enough 3/3/2017
18. Internal Combustion 3/7/2017
19. Heart Failure 3/7/2017
20. East Of Damascus 3/7/2017
21. Splinter 3/9/2017
22. Greatness 3/9/2017
23. Head To Heart 3/12/2017
24. Ennui -new- 3/14/2017
25. Not Greedy -new- 3/14/2017
26. Stasis, Please -new- 3/15/2017
27. Good Morning! -new- 3/20/2017
28. Ariel In Amber -new- 3/20/2017
29. Above The Elkhorn -new- 3/21/2017
30. Our Bargain -new- 3/22/2017
31. Squabbling Roommates -new- 3/25/2017
32. Chemical Crutch -new- 3/26/2017
33. Recliner 1/17/2017
34. In Idaho 1/18/2017
35. How Do You Say 'cheers' In Mandarin? 1/18/2017
36. Equilateral 1/20/2017
37. Relative Density 1/23/2017
38. North 1/24/2017
39. La La Land 1/25/2017
40. Cardiomyopathy 1/25/2017
Best Poem of Lawrence Beck

How The Clintons And The Bushes And Millions Of Stupid People Begat Trump

They've failed us. We're aware of that.
Those folks with splendid pedigrees
Who reassured us they knew best
In fact were either clueless or beholden
To the ones who had their ears and
Paid their bills, and, thus, we always
Are at war. We can't afford to feed
The poor or pave the roads around
Our houses. All the places where we
Worked have closed, and what we
Used to make is sold to us from overseas.
The ones who own the capital grow ever
Richer. We grow poor. We see now
How our leaders failed us, but that's
All that we can see, and, in our anger,...

Read the full of How The Clintons And The Bushes And Millions Of Stupid People Begat Trump


I stood on the deck of the ship
As it pushed through the ice
At Bothnia's northern end.
It wasn't so cold as I thought
It would be, but why had I come?
I must have had reasons.
The bay, I was told, is polluted,
But, covered in white, in ice,
In the cold and the sun, it

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