Dec 2017
Yesterday Was Another Day
17/12/17 05:56
Yesterday was Another Day
Yesterday was another day just like any day before.
When another president thinks
they can bully and bomb their way to peace
in the name of humanitarianism
in the name of doing the right thing
in the name of justice and freedom.
in the name of increasing his favorability or TV ratings
trying to sound like he’s not insane
being the conduit for raking in the profits
for the industrial-military complex
as Ike warned in the 1950’s.
Dennis Wayne Bressack
Woodstock, New York
April 7, 2017
Yesterday was another day just like any day before.
When another president thinks
they can bully and bomb their way to peace
in the name of humanitarianism
in the name of doing the right thing
in the name of justice and freedom.
in the name of increasing his favorability or TV ratings
trying to sound like he’s not insane
being the conduit for raking in the profits
for the industrial-military complex
as Ike warned in the 1950’s.
Dennis Wayne Bressack
Woodstock, New York
April 7, 2017
Naked In The Sunset
17/12/17 05:53
Naked In The Sunset
I am naked in the sunset
floating toward the falling sky,
stars seeping into my streaming eyes,
my virgin ears listening to past voices
singing familiar phrases of love and death.
Finally at the place I call my home,
rooted in wistful childhood memories of backyard fences,
separating us from an old man with a vegetable garden
into which my whiffle ball lands with a whimper.
Here I have chosen to live out this life,
in this yellow cottage in the green valley
at the foot of the mysterious, mystic mountain
walking distance to the cemetery soil
into which I will be buried.
Fear has abided,
giving way to comfort in the knowledge
that I am that old man with the vegetable garden
on the other side of the fence.
Dennis Wayne Bressack
Woodstock, New York
October 8, 2017
I am naked in the sunset
floating toward the falling sky,
stars seeping into my streaming eyes,
my virgin ears listening to past voices
singing familiar phrases of love and death.
Finally at the place I call my home,
rooted in wistful childhood memories of backyard fences,
separating us from an old man with a vegetable garden
into which my whiffle ball lands with a whimper.
Here I have chosen to live out this life,
in this yellow cottage in the green valley
at the foot of the mysterious, mystic mountain
walking distance to the cemetery soil
into which I will be buried.
Fear has abided,
giving way to comfort in the knowledge
that I am that old man with the vegetable garden
on the other side of the fence.
Dennis Wayne Bressack
Woodstock, New York
October 8, 2017