Bartholomew Barker, Poet

If you haven’t voted yet, it’s time to do so. I’ll be heading to my polling place during my lunch break. You can read all about it at Oddball Magazine. They just published Blue Magick. Head over there and cast your social media spells.

Trickle Down

My boss’s boss lives a few floors above.
He’s a nice enough guy, we can talk sports
but he’s used to sitting in the skybox
while I’m in the cheap seats.

His boss lives in the penthouse
with an express elevator
to a private multicar garage
but I can tell when he’s home

because there’s a leak in his toilet
he won’t fix since he isn’t bothered
but the mess gets bigger the further it flows,
raining upon the poor and middle class alike.

There’s only one thing trickling down,
dear reader, and it ain’t money.

(Two weeks until Election Day. Vote early, if you can.)

To My Fellow White Men

We’re great, that’s undeniable,
we put ourselves on the moon,
kicked Hitler’s Nazi ass
and ran the English out of America.

But all those fine accomplishments
with flags and parades
were achieved by our grandfathers
and their grandfathers before them,
all the way back to Adam.

They built the pedestals
upon which we stand
but that’s not the American Way.
We should be building our own,
not clinging to Daddy.

And pissing on those still working
in the pits we dug for them is just lame.
We’re real men, not victims,
we don’t need to tear down
others to feel taller.

(Three weeks to Election Day!)

Once Upon A Time

A man could raise a family,
pay off a mortgage
and take a nice vacation
every year on a single salary.

That’s where I was raised,
that quaint country called America.
It wasn’t perfect, just ask the blacks,
homosexuals and secretaries,

but at least the rich paid more in taxes
than the poor and, while politicians
disagreed, we didn’t doubt their motives,
most of the time, only their methods.

But that was before democracy died
and truth was lost in the big money tide.

(Four weeks until Election Day.)

Got this in the mail and misread “Judicial”.

Try to keep your head
out of the oven
for just one more month.

Unless it’s an electric
then walk away from the window
and go to your polling place.

Unless you live in a ranch
then leave the pills
in the cupboard until you vote.

The Republicans couldn’t care
less if you live or die.
The fewer people voting
the better for the corporates
corrupting our politics.

So leave the trigger locked,
and the noose unknotted.
If enough of us struggle
through the first Tuesday
after the first Monday
of November, that Wednesday
might just dawn a little brighter.

(Note for my fellows in North Carolina, the deadline to register to vote is Friday October 12th. Even if you think you’re registered, double-check now, so you can re-register if you’ve been purged.)

Ruthless

Being ruthless at chess,
clearing the checkered field
of battle leads to victory
and all the people and horses
return unharmed for the next match.

Being ruthless at football,
playing to injure your opponent
only leads to escalating violence,
carried off on a stretcher
sometimes never to play again.

Being ruthless at politics,
behaving at though it’s a game,
a tribal Armageddon where your rivals
are evil instead of merely wrong,
is how we’ve fallen into this mess.

Politics is not war nor a horse race,
despite the television news,
it’s how we organize society,
it’s about win-win solutions,
it’s why the thoughtful tend to lose.

(From today’s Living Poetry prompt.)

That Uncle is Coming to Thanksgiving

He used to keep his racist,
sexist, homophobic opinions
to himself but he discovered
the internet and now believes
it’s okay to give full voice
to whatever his scattered friends
in their white privileged bubbles
are saying about the Fags and Darkies.

We still love and respect our crazy uncle
but we have been too tolerant, too indulgent,
and while we can’t change his mind with logic
or data we need to remind him that most Americans,
despite the results of the last election,
are embarrassed by his ignorance.
So if we all vote on Election Day,
we can have a peaceful Thanksgiving.

(If any of my uncles are wondering, I’m referring to my other uncles.)