Jungle Land Blues

A Poem by redzone

digging up some older poems...

JUNGLE LAND BLUES

　

Sitting in a café,

we observed a

definite hint of mocha

mixing with the aroma of books.

Sitting quietly, surrounded by

a mural of dead poets

in various poses of contemplation,

I couldn’t help but wonder

what were they thinking?

Living in a different era,

what would they say

and write about today’s terror?

Perhaps a few saw it coming,

these Christian fascists,

America’s Taliban

sweeping aside in bloody strokes,

people’s basic rights,

proclaiming an "end of history";

fast approaching

flaming, sanctimonious

Armageddon times,

swirling in hideous hues

sung in off-key blues.

Perhaps, some of these poets,

like so many today

were caught off guard

limiting their poems

to "pretty things",

faith in god,

love poems

or unique forms

with content that said nothing

but filled with petty angst

amidst gathering storms

aimed at every shore.

Very much like the kind I have written lately.

But it reminds me of those

Springsteen lines:

"and the poets down here

don’t write nothing at all

they just stand back

and let it all be….

Down in jungle land."

And yet ironically

the future of humanity

is often fought out

in battles of verse,

or the way shadow

and light

dance majestically

and is reflected in acrylics

splashed chaotically on canvas;

or in the scientific

evaluation of the human story

told in the DNA trail

following curious adventurers

out of Africa,

as told in irrefutable evolution!

~~~

"And the poets down here

don’t…."

Don’t what?? Write??

There has never been

a more important time

in the history of human kind

the need to write

dance

sing

laugh

finger paint

in fractal hues

creating a human revolution

seen ever more clearly

than in the re-envisioned communism

found along the newly charted

Avakian Trail.

~~redzone 3.6.06