In the Background

they send me
platitudes.
 (did you ever notice how it is like
platypus -- without the cute)

still
they send them to
me;

telling me to 
Fear Not!

Real Love
 is
be      yond
all that.

but the pitiful
screams 
of bad actors 
cry 
above the 
plastic burnsides,

against whose wall 
the Yankees 
           fell
and fell and
fell.

why is it that so
               much
I hold dear, so
               much
in which I believe, 
is so
      stained.

grace, honour, favour,
glory

sodden and soiled by the
grease
of HoneyBooBoo’s 
                fat
fingers,

and the timeless
sorrow
behind her mother’s 
eyes.

bronze passes for gold
and will anyone,
                any
one
be surprised when the
gold
     goes
green.

my head is like to
EXPLODE
from the weight
of all this wonder
ing.

and it will 
fall,
in a shower of 
green and gold and
                   blue
so so so much
blue,

in a greasy greedy 
puddle
at your
        feet.

©sdrogers 23 february 2013

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