T-idoless - by Vicente Reyes

T-idoless

Today is the twenty-sixth day of December.

I've been with the junkies and the prophets

I have sniffed glue in the alleys and the basements

And you don't fool me.

All your glitter and pride will rot,

As will the misery-ridden body you so proudly flaunt.

Your cities stand like wide open beavers,

Waiting for the highest bidder.

Your children crawl like worms in the gutter.

And even the parks with their iron garblings meant to be toys,

Even they are infested with neon eyed maggots

Who call you mother like the rest of the world.

But you are a rotting tree trunk and will soon be cast into the fire.

I've been think about you cause I'm broke these days.

I have never been so blessed as when I'm broke.

Lately I've been kicking tin cans in the street,

Consulting mud puddles like oracles for a sign.

And the splatterings on my tight and faded jeans

Form faces and remind me of places

I've seen in morning dreams.

My cigarettes ashes are uplifted by these alley winds,

And my past trails behind me like the loose flapping of my shirt tails.

The colorful bits of paper by the roadside are my friends,

And The Sun is my father's face.

So come tomorrow whatever may

I'll rejoice in His light today.

Weaklings by paper hands led,

Cripples who limp a living death,

Such are your leaders oh public bricks.

And though you form The Tower of Materialism,

Naming it, deeming it holy, calling it Capitalism,

It still stinks you fat and iron-hearted misers.

I'd lead you without charge to the fountain of youth

But you keep screaming pagan you are damned to hell.

Alright. I've had enough. Henceforth I plead no more.

Vicente Reyes

December 26, 1976

Internet source: http://www.thepoetsdiary.com/

First North American Serial Rights Available

May be reprinted freely for personal review or academic discussion