The Great Society Poem by Robert Bly

The Great Society

Rating: 4.0


Dentists continue to water their lawns even in the rain:
Hands developed with terrible labor by apes
Hang from the sleeves of evangelists;
There are murdered kings in the light-bulbs outside movie theaters:
The coffins of the poor are hibernating in piles of new tires.

The janitor sits troubled by the boiler,
And the hotel keeper shuffles the cards of insanity.
The President dreams of invading Cuba.
Bushes are growing over the outdoor grills,
Vines over the yachts and the leather seats.

The city broods over ash cans and darkening mortar.
On the far shore, at Coney Island, dark children
Playing on the chilling beach: a sprig of black seaweed,
Shells, a skyful of birds,
While the mayor sits with his head in his hands.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Phjillip Walter williams 20 October 2019

Really, how shameful. A robot reading poetry.

0 0 Reply
Fabrizio Frosini 11 December 2015

' Dentists continue to water their lawns even in the rain: ' ..not only dentists, I guess.. :) but he is right.. what a ''great society'' have -we all- helped to shape!

10 0 Reply
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