I read with horror the comments of (my) WI Sen. Ron Johnson, who endorses mouthwash to prevent Covid, lies about Dr. Fauci and medicine in general, and thinks taking horse de-wormer is acceptable medical treatment. I can’t believe anyone would avoid taking a vaccine because of a doofus like him, but then a thought occurred.
Perhaps the Trump faithful are letting Covid drag on, sowing doubt about Dr. Fauci, so we will become more and more hopeless. Drained. Depressed and isolated. I spoke with a member of our church about “sadness fatigue,” the endless parade of disaster on the news. So much is unavoidable, but there is a whole lot about our country that can be set right, if only we have the collective energy.
But what if the Ron Johnsons of the country are spreading disinformation and causing more chaos as a means to an end?
The scenario: Get folks to mistrust science and “the government,” or as the Qists think of it, the baby-eating megamonsters… keep them stirred up as a distraction. Then, they can, I don’t know, run knuckleheads in elections from the school boards to state office (while also putting their minions on election boards). From Charlottesville to January 6 and beyond, from George Floyd to countless Black men since… and all the trans women of color? No one cares about them (just Caitlyn Jenner, because according to someone I overheard) “Bruce is a Republican.” Ugh ugh ugh
Maybe I’m cynical (“No, really?” someone in the back row snorted), but the more I look at the Ivermectin Idiots and the more I listen to people wax effusive over Ron DeSantis and DJT (who wouldn’t spit on them if they were on fire), the more I realize this situation is, to paraphrase, “One third of the country wanting to destroy another third of the county, while that final third just watches.”
So which third will I be in? Which third will write history?
Which third will you be?
LOST WORD
I awoke, musing
(first thoughts of morning, always sharpest)
that President Obama’s endorsement
of Debbie Wasserman Schultz was
an implied endorsement of Hillary Clinton
(yes, I actually wake up thinking this stuff)
I then planned a tweet
to that effect
In my mind, typing abbreviated text
(abbrev’d txt)
“Prez hypes DWS; tacet hype of HRC
Didn’t even close the quotes
Stopped short
“tacet”
Is it “tacit”? No, doesn’t look right
Is there a tacet/tacit usage comparison?
Should I google it?
Is “tacit” a word
or a typo?
Or is “tacet” wrong?
At that moment
This very morning, in my bed
I realized, “This is how it can start, with
a lost word.”
Hear this, cruel Fates:
I don’t lose words
I use words
to great effect
(Effect? Affect?
Naw, I’m screwin’ with ya now!)
Poets, writers, artists
write and paint their truth
Individual as brushstrokes
If my truth were
that mental facility would begin to leak
To fallfunnel
an hourglass
emptied
s
l
o
w
l
y
I watched the first grain of sand slip
today
and documented it here
Now, that would be ironic
That precision of loss
© 2016 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Connie Peters and I play Words With Friends. She asked this week whether I would be doing the April Poem-A-Day challenge. At that time, I told her that depression would probably get the best of me, so NO. After this experience, and her musing that “sometimes, it can help,” I have decided to take the plunge after all.
Thanks, Connie! See, we never know when the little words of encouragement will stick. Friends rock.
Alzheimer’s does not run in my family. Just the usual shot livers, lung cancer, and other addiction-related stuff that is preventable when you know what’s up. My real fear is that, since my mom lived a long time WITH fallout from addication, I will have to be put down like an old horse when I am 128. Find a quiet corner of the garden, you know…
For ABC Wednesday, the letter is L… for loss/lost. Amy
If She Were
If she were a cuticle
she’d be bleeding
If she were road kill, she’d be
half in a crow’s belly
This country
These headlines
The prospects, so bleak
She’s dog tired
Bone weary
Dog bone busted
© 2016 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
ABC Wednesday is on the letter “I” and seems to be pointing toward writing one’s own life. Strange to write these thoughts in the third person; yet, to claim all this as mine feels like defeat.
I am hopeful, but this reality is taking its toll…
Peace, Amy
Are We Not Meat Puppets?
They say jump
We don’t ask why; we say, “How high?”
They say pay
We don’t question “Evil Axis”; we ante up the taxes
When did we become a numbskull nation of
Stepford meat puppets? Coughing up money to
support the Machine that pukes out bullets and drones,
that rains down death on the defenseless and our kids,
that defends “democracy” like it’s alive and well
in this incestuous hellhole of a republic that should be
called the Citizens United Shambles of Anglophiles.
Now a 200-year old experiment gone horribly wrong
reveals the abysmal truth: We were set up to fail.
Ben Franklin knew it; we blew it according to his
prediction that the predilection of the predator rich
would supplant rights of the “lesser born.”
American royalty (the Bushes, the Kochs, the WalMartons),
bred and more often inbred into simpering, faded Xeroxes
of hypocrisy, invading Congress (or buying a senator or two,
plus a Supreme, a real bargain these days)
They co-opt the middle class covertly
Privatizing public schools
(Susan B. Anthony reels in her grave)
Privatizing health care
(Big Pharma wanks the banks)
Busting unions and demonizing the rank and file
(Mother Jones rattles her bones)
Abusing immigrants
(State of Liberty or Torch Your Ass, Amigo?)
Espousing the Trickle-Down Theory
(Paul Ryan, please pass the toilet paper,
or your budget – they’re the same thing)
Citing voter fraud and discouraging minority voters
(we NEED ID because four cases were proved)
Continuing worst practices in banks
(FDR was a socialist; rich people deserve bonuses)
With help from some bastard pastors who live
in mansions, drive limos (or are driven in same),
who wouldn’t give Jesus a dime or the time of day
if they passed Him on the street (Private police
will handle homeless, and they won’t have any
Big Government oversight in how they handle it)
With help from us, the pathetic apathetic…
they strain our brains and even our mercy through
media propaganda and corporate corpulence
And we fall for it, fall into it, ground up into
walking, talking, FOX-spewing meat puppets
And as Monsanto and their ilk skip off to another
Koch Brothers cruise to the mutilated, prostituted
Caribbean, we say
Have a nice day and
Why doesn’t somebody do something about them and
Kim Kardashian is really getting fat and
Honey Boo-Boo is on, microwave some popcorn and
Wow, this (genetically engineered, dye-infused,
growth hormone-laden, e coli infected) beef is
too expensive, but fire up the grill and pass me
a cold one or two or twelve
Where is our indignation?
Is it American Idol or American Idle,
cause this sure ain’t American Idyll
NRA, FOX, ALEC: know your acronymns and
dismantle their poisonous, licentious, homophobic,
woman-hating, war-profiteering, racist, divisive
shitmongering, unconstitutional, IMMORAL machinery
By any nonviolent means necessary
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
So Kerry at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads wanted a rant, in remembrance of Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl.” Since this angry state of mind is so utterly foreign to me, I did my best to act like a political activist and member of the Christian Left. Hope I succeeded. (wink)
Peace, Amy
STOCK STILL
stock still
starting off wrong foot hold
a time to answer
ruler gave little to stand in.
storm threatened, exploded cold shadow
mysteries appear at the door
another burn on the sojourn
bury arms.
conduct friendly first year.
side now up to the clouds above.
For dverse, an erasure poem from Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird. Dedicated to the Republicans in our U.S. Congress and the way their “not playing well with others” holds us hostage. They know quite well they hold the keys to our security: At home, abroad, and universally… I keep hoping they listen to what Lincoln called “our better angels.” Lincoln would be ashamed at what his party has become: Obstructionists, secessionists, rich men in silk suits who spit on the poor. I call ‘em like I see ‘em, and depression only makes the lines seem deeper and more entrenched.
Also at my bipartisan poetry hangout, Poets United… proud to be a member. Peace, Amy
REJOICE
No more cracks ‘bout “voter fraud”
Not a peep from Hair That’s Odd*
Ryan, back to same old lying
Mitt’s hair won’t need so much dyeing
Mister Prez must buckle down
Get it straight in Lobby Town
Stop the war, stop the fracking
Congress, he can start a-smacking
Beef up this new Health Care Act
ALL need coverage; that’s a fact
Give my friends the right to wed
You don’t need to see their bed
But the best must surely be
No more smack ads on TV
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
* Donald Trump tried to make this election about himself. “Birthers” should get over it.
You know how I voted, because I’m an unapologetic leftie. But I voted by default this time, not by mandate. Until our country reverses policy on energy – no Pipeline, no more fracking (all the water we have is all we’re getting, folks. Earth recycles it, and the more polluted it gets, the deeper trouble we’re in). Germany is awash with solar panels, something like 80 percent, and we have so many great places for that as well as turbines.
Don’t get me started about the war. I will keep pressing to bring our troops home NOW. Why not join me? Here’s a link to find out all your U.S. congressional contacts – click HERE. Don’t wait until January. There’s no reason they should sit on their asses on your dime!
Class warfare is not ended with this election, although the Right spent over six bucks for every vote, and the Left won with a little over ONE buck per vote. Since the election, racists are ramping up their rhetoric, and gays don’t have equal rights yet. Hell, WOMEN don’t have equal rights yet!
Next time, let’s see what a woman can do. As long as it’s the right person, I’m game. Peace, Amy
November Dilemma
Conflicted electorate.
Convictions worn like armor
or on sleeves, bleeding
or, better yet,
whispered in the back rooms
of country clubs and
boo-yahed in skinhead bars: Are you
white enough, is the White House
white enough, is the First Lady
blonde enough for you?
If the robber barons manage
to steal this one, we’ll be
back to Reaganomics and
a president who, like Ronnie,
dyes his hair. Just. That. Vain.
The Trickle-Down Theory
will be the law of this land…
once again, the Free Market
(“as opposed to the slave market,”
joked a RedStateNeck who thought
I wasn’t listening), yes, the
Free Market will reign. And rain.
Trickle-Down Economics.
We know what’s gonna be
trickling down on us; we’ll need
lots of toilet paper to clean up
that mess. Should I buy stock
in Kimberly-Clark? It’s bound
to shoot higher than
Mitt’s real hairline.
Ah, but Kimberly is owned by the Kochs,
who invented the Tea Party (ironic,
those initials: T.P.).
Thus, you see
my dilemma.
Shall I profit off
the grief of the majority
or continue to
fight the moneyed minority?
Yeah, like there’s an option!
This year, make “Blues in the Night”
a victory dance,
if we stand a chance
against Diebolt and Hype Finance.
Or will we be finessed
by Salt Lake City’s best,
confessed, silk suit pressed?
(Though his agenda for the oppressed
shows him decidedly undressed.)
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For ABC Wednesday: P is for Politics! Check in a few days to hear it at Buddah Moskowitz’s Virtual Poetry Reading site. Also at the politically non-affiliated hub of activity, Poets United. Adding to the dverse Open Mic Night, too!
HOOPLA!
In silly, obtrusive hats
they banter on the floor of
the convention, knowing
the intention and the rules.
Their duty, to nominate
their candidate… yet, they’re
only in their element
acting like damned fools.
No matter which party,
they’re mostly foolhardy.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Three Word Wednesday (Banter, Duty, Element) and ABC Wednesday (H). Also at the convention of brilliant poets (who let me write there, too!): Poets United.
PROCESS NOTES: Yes, I watched BOTH the Republican and Democratic conventions, as much as I could, some online. The stupid behavior and outlandish dress displayed by members of both parties was truly a turnoff, considering the solemn duty they are to perform.
I hope all voters will take time to watch the speeches (now that they are so easily accessed online) and visit the various fact-checking sites to evaluate, to discern… not simply go for the usual line. However you vote, GET TO THE POLLS! Otherwise, I really don’t want to hear your complaints. Get active, get American, get real. Peace, Amy
Going the Distance:
“Who Do You Think You Are, Amy Barlow Liberatore?”
Let’s hear what everybody else says first:
“You were born 40 and you’re working your way backwards,”
said my mom, when I was 7
“Charmful little armful,”
said my musical mentor
“She can SANG!”
said our African-American piano player
“Get that bitch off the podium!”
snarled the Buffalo cop at a peace rally
“Please don’t say that about your dad,”
cried my mom, when I was 35
“You’re not a dyke, why should you care?”
asked a Fundie at a PRIDE rally (when I challenged their ‘God Hates Fags’ sign)
“Good thing you can sing. Your dancing sucks,”
joked my friend at a big band concert
“You’re not a victim; you’re a survivor,”
said my therapist
“You wear manic depression well,”
grinned my psychiatrist
“You have the soul of a dinosaur,”
said the oracle Sidnie
“Don’t hold back, tell us how you really feel,”
say bloggers (with a wink)
“PLAY ‘FEEEEELINGS’!!”
slobbered countless drunks at my piano bar
“You’re just a gay man trapped in a straight woman’s body,”
said Jeffery, may he rest in peace
“You’re going to hell for encouraging those homosexuals,”
say… too many people to mention
“If you’re going to hell, it’s gonna be in a FABulous handbasket,”
giggled Jason
“Thanks for the lessons,”
said my BFF (and only he will understand that comment)
“I have no dramatic coming-out story because you were so accepting,”
laughed Riley
“She’s a pain in the ass,”
said the FBI agent, flipping through my file
“Take it off! Take it off!”
cried Christopher after I sang a comedic song about stripper envy
“Because she questions my authority,”
said the principal to my mother, as I sat in detention
“You are SO worth it,”
says my husband, over and over again
My life is chaotic peace.
I’m a sharp little pencil, still writing my life.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Poetic Bloomings (“Who Do You Think You Are?”), for Sunday Scribblings (distance), and for the Poetry Pantry at Poets United.
Sharp Little Pencil 