Peter Dugan


They say there is beauty in darkness and you can touch the edge of infinity but I saw the wall as an ornamental façade.
The border in the blind alley
a bulwark of the American Dream the Eye of God located in the crotch of a woman. Liberty Park no longer occupied by the people streets of commerce walled off, blocked  streets of commerce walled off, blocked  by a barricade of politicians and police.  Social distortion, a cacophony of sound  like the lost signal of a radio station permeates the air waves.   Truth twisted and warped by mass media but at least the lies are all fair and balanced they change the conversation. 
Think Tanks spawned by corporate entities in business for business to create law and order,  a scheme to achieve power and control. Doubts and suspicions fueled by  the nightmare of terror, they know the fears that bind us can also divide us. They wage a culture war as religion  is relegated to an economic commodity,  All hail the power of thirty pieces of silver. And those that preach freedom of religion  hold God hostage, a prisoner shackled  in-between the pages of an ancient book.

  The fires are stoked by devils who profit  from gas, oil and coal, it’s just  sleight of hand,  so ignore the man behind the  curtain.
We build new pyramids for the new pharaohs, measured by caliber and millimeter, measured by caliber and millimeter, waiting just outside our stomping ground A well regulated militia and balanced economy ignored and abolished by five black robes of the court. Because all the stars are in Hollywood suffering from the unbearable heat of being cool they pass and savor the power.   Their heads planted firmly in the clouds  they are the wild flowers that fill empty spaces. an easy rider existence, shackled to a lifestyle. Shades of color, pigments of skin tone,  hoods of sports ware and hoods on white robes,  arsonists are on the loose igniting the flames. Racial conflict versus class warfare. Stand your ground against stand and deliver. A sideshow to draw attention away . . . Trayvon Martin is not the only casualty,   In the comfort of the Wall Street American Dream, we all look like ants.     Static energy is released, when there is friction   between reality and fiction.
So why are you

No one remembers the beginning of this poem.

back to top



send comments to info@poetrybay.com

first electronic copyright 2000 poetrybay. 
all rights revert to author



Poetrybay seeks fine poetry, reviews, commentary and essays without restriction in form or content, and reserves first electronic copyright to all work published. All rights to published work revert to the author following publication. All Email submissions should be in body of email text.

To submit poems write to:

PO Box 114 
Northport NY 11768
or email us at 

send comments to info@poetrybay.com

first electronic copyright 2004 poetrybay. 
all rights revert to authors

website comments to dpb@islandguide.com