Posts Tagged ‘America’


By David Allen

I am waiting for sunrise in America
after this dark, broken night, 
where democracy’s been pummeled
by the clown chief’s rubber mallet
and narcissistic scrawls on edicts
that devastate social programs
and reward the rich elite.

I am waiting for sunrise in America
to shine on the nation’s capital,
where swamp creatures swim laps
around the White House and Senate,
where multitudes hurl protest chants
at their representatives’ deaf ears
and any change for the good is pending.

I am waiting for sunrise in America 
the morning after votes are cast,
to see if the false prince falls
or is enshrined as our new king
bringing on the darker night  and fog,
smothering  what’s left of our  freedoms.


This poem is one of three poems of mine published in the fantastic Polk Street Review.

Panic in Times Square CBS News
 The Light's Gone Out
By David Allen

It’s getting darker in America
We have somehow lost the dawn
We move slowly as the light dims
And wonder what went wrong

Lady Liberty’s torch is out
It no longer lights the way
We choke on the wisps of smoke 
As we face darker days.

Fear and hate now rule the land
It’s the opposite of our dawn
When we welcomed the huddled mass
Escaping foreign wrongs.

But now a motorcycle backfire
Scares hundreds in Times Square
Afraid the next mass shooting
Could very well be there.

And we train children in our schools
How to hide or run or duck
When some shooter comes calling
Some crazed soul run amok.

It’s the opposite of dawn
This nightmare land of fear
And when we’ll see the sun again
Isn’t very clear. 


Shoe Pile

Posted: August 4, 2019 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

By David Allen

I saw a pile of shoes tonight
On the TV news,
And cried the tears
I thought had dried
From crying in the early morn.

At 3 a.m. I awoke to pee
And glanced at the tv
I keep on to drown
My ear’s tinnitus roar.
I wished I had stayed
On that inner ear shore
Instead of discovering
Another mass shooting
Tore up an American town.

The bodies were blurred
And I finally slept,
My body aching,
Feeling the pain
Of the survivors.
But 13 hours later
The news did not censor
The pile of shoes left
By the dead and the fleeing.

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MISC PIX 2 002

By David Allen

Now, there’s a word abused,
Misunderstood and misused
By the Far Left, the Far Right,
The loose cannons, the uptight,
The free spirits, the lost souls,
The imprisoned, the paroled,
The enlightened, the dimwitted,
Those without, those with it,

During July 4th fireworks
The patriotic jerks
Use the word without thought
“Support those who fought
For our freedom!” they scream
But no war in decades, it seems,
Was fought to preserve
Their Freedomland dreams.

Yes, we’re the Cops of the World
And as that freedom word’s hurled,
As we awesomely attack,
I am taken aback.
Are we bringing them democracy,
Or some new tyrant’s monstrosity?
Are we trading our children for oil,
Sending them to die on foreign soil,
While the rich pad their bank accounts
And our Middle Class fails to surmount
The inflated hills of credit card bills?

Freedom, yeah I wish I was free
From phone taps and cameras that shadow me,
From the x-rays and pat downs at airline gates,
From small-minded leaders preaching hate.
They say, “Freedom’s not free,” and that’s no lie,
It cost all of us much, the price is high.
You see, the freedom we have in the USA
Costs the freedom we’re willing to give away.

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