Apocalypse, And Good Bourbon Poem by Eric Cockrell

Apocalypse, And Good Bourbon

Rating: 3.1


apocalypse, and good bourbon.
the beat of the news feels like
shovels digging graves by themselves...
deaths without purpose, lives
without purpose....
the cash register rings,
someone else is evicted,
another factory shut down!

the stench of oppression
is almost unbearable....
fresh manured fields of lies,
pull the strings of the puppet,
make him dance....

(you cant see them,
cant touch them,
they're insulated, shut off
from the sounds of hunger
and naked hearts beating!)

and down the street an old man
dies alone in a rundown house.
the shades are pulled, no one
notices... his old dog
guards the body, waiting....

while two young lovers make love
in the back of an old car...
two young gay men hand in hand
walking and talking....
two babies are born,
and two more die....

apocalypse, and good bourbon.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Terence George Craddock 02 September 2011

Yes the indifference of the power elite is distressing and painful to bear. The insulation of wealth is entrenched within American society. During the Vietnam War the poor were drafted and fought or were imprisoned or ran as draft escapees to Canada. The sons of the rich were exempt from the draft while they completed their degrees and affirmed their privileges and the status quo. The trauma of killing others or the stigma of refusing to fight never troubled their sleep. Others paid the blood price for their freedom. Too many vets returned to become homeless, about 10% usually according to most data kept on their adjustment back into civilian society. A policy to house victims of recession who become homeless is needed. The bail out of Wall Street bankers in 2008 housed no honest hard working Americans who deserved employment programs likethose that blessed America in the post World War 2 era.

0 0 Reply
Anthony Joseph Erangey 01 September 2011

The frustration is evident with the status quo. I have felt this way as has most of our generation, I presume. Picking one good line from many, (...' they're insulated, shut off'...) gets to the core of the view, in my experience. We do feel like 'puppets' being made to 'dance', and not being a push over, that is what irks me the most. Great poem and well developed and written. Peace.

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