Mary Margaret Park

“Masque Executiom”
by Mary Margaret Park

purity
a divisive construct
paraded by lesser men
when disillusionment reigns
the mask of the executioner

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“The Constellations Will Follow” for Jessica
by Mary Margaret Park

upon the silver moon she rode
in a swirl of phantom dreams
the stars beckoned with her passage
reflecting greatness that they’d seen

she was alone and feeling weary
so didn’t notice them at all
blinded by past failures
she’d given up, would let them fall

ill fortune had been her siren song
and she’d sung it very well
but yesterday’s ruins were receding
her broken heart could finely heal

mother, son, and daughter
are the radiance of the sun
lover, friend, and father
won’t let us falter, come undone

our course is true and righteous
we do not heed deception’s drum
the constellations will follow now
for the journey’s just begun

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“One Mind Reels”
by Mary Margaret Park

a bitter wind blows
into a slow motion
slide show

an over exposed mind reel
blasting in from the past
a watered down version
of the man with the mask

a conquistador’s parade
in the faded fashions of yesterday

a procession for here and now
for a vibrant mind
ahead of his time
so fine beneath
a waste land of shadows

has the light grown dim
where his dreams dwell

perhaps a ship dwelling
a hull with no name
witless and wandering
in dark hours of pain

a maiden voyage through
the blackest inlet
where there’s no outlet
except for free will

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“Passage Left, Nowhere Right”
by Mary Margaret Park

desert ice
parched
dry
weeping
in that slice of time

pain
the rust of reason
paper thin
cuts
constant
a faraway echo
of grinding glass

dark alleys
cold and indifferent
passages leading nowhere

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“Moods”
by Mary Margaret Park

our moods are many things
a kite a sail a coin a cane
soaring high into to the air
or tumbling back into despair

our emotions frame the hours
casual keepers of glass towers
with no regard to flights of fancy
casting stones or sitting calmly

at will they shape the day
with brightest joy or blackest thunder
breaking thoughts as they plunder
these fickle stewards of repose

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“Line”
by Mary Margaret Park

the wind
a blue streak intersecting
today and tomorrow

a hint
a suggestion
a notion

an exchange
between friends
a whispered echo
translucent
and bittersweet

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“The New Working Class Poor”
by Mary Margaret Park

sucking up futures
with slot machine wiles
pop go the weasels
with painted on smiles

our congress sold out
to big bidders in suits
we’re choking and gasping
our heads in their noose

keepers of fortunes
that we’ll never know
purveyors of privilege
and grifters of gold

Clinton, Bush, or Obama
who cares?
like Iraq’s WMD’s
they aren’t really there

insurance brokers are
in bed with the Fed
drug makers and bankers
line up to give head

the middle class dying
one tax at a time
as cash rich elitists fleece
their pockets of dimes

economies reeling
weakened and frail
we’re dialing for dollars
in hegemony hell

higher gas prices
the lesson of crude
as Opec’s fists tighten
on what’s left of the loot

the dollar is pitching
and yawing with debt
corrupt politicians
a new terrorist threat?

we’re middle class citizens
in an undeclared war
upscale Americans are
the new working poor

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It is still unbelievable that 2012 is right around the corner (damn!), but that’s okay. There are so many items on my list to give back to all of you that in reality, it is really all that should matter at this juncture. A lot of old paradigm minded suits will balk at the notion that anyone should empower music lovers or e-reading enthusiasts (as it were) but come on, we don’t live in 1981 (let alone 1950) so, why hold anyone hostage? You’ve got to get with the times (seriously). And I can’t say all I’d like to say so, just heed this next bit of advice.

Go read this article now!

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corporations
turn on a dime
slap backs and greenbacks
they’re robbing you blind

enron beginnings
etched in the sand
with tacit impunity
they shape the land

fat cat opportunists
seize the dollars decline
to downsize and justify
the end of overtime

they’ll exploit you
use you
run you into the ground
keep the money coming
or they’ll take you down

they’ll cry foul
if you’ve got dirt on your hands
but your sales are slipping so
they’ve taken a stand

CEO’s and CFO’s are
the prophets of greed
selling out the working
class in order to succeed

workers can’t survive
on the minimum wage
it’s a new world order
where we’re free to be slaves

the working man loses
in the corporation wars
its their boardroom motto
and we are their whores

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He loves women
Beautiful women

It’s in the smell of her hair
and the feel of her skin
The sway of her hips
and the tilt of her chin

It’s in the stride of her step
and the shape of her calve
The spark of her eyes
and the sound of her laugh

He loves women
Beautiful women

It’s in the red of her lips
and the rose of her cheeks
The embrace of her arms
and the silk of her speech

It’s in the rise of her breasts
and the tones of her sigh
In the curve of her rear
and the cream of her thighs

He loves women
Beautiful, sensual Women

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