Poetry

AP photo

By

Don Krieger

Patriot Act

Our best and brightest, Colin Powell,

shed his loyalty and self-respect

for 20 billion in war work

for his vice president’s friends.

200,000 of ours fought,

a million of theirs.

5,000 of ours died,

25,000 of theirs,

and 100,000 innocents.

All to divert 9/11’s outrage,

to alibi freedom’s eager surrender,

both ours and our tormentors,

alike indentured

to fear, delirium, and dogma.

No wonder we crave fools to rule us,

to lead with hatred for strangers,

that we, the people, may forget

our submission to lies we could see,

the discard of our freedom for safety,

the brutalization of Iraq without reason,

our cowardice before 19 dead criminals,

we who lack the grace

to know our shame.

Sensibilities

“It tugs at all of your sensibilities as a human being”

…   John Kerry, Secretary of State

…   11 Apr 2016, Hiroshima, Japan

All ears are cocked

for careful words and bows.

The G7 is coming,

minus Russia,

with planning in Nagasaki.

A quarter million

gone in an instant,

a terrible warning:

“Don’t tread on me.”

I am not great nor so careful.

I lack a loud voice

or heart for propaganda.

Mine is only sorrow.

They had no planes, no ships,

no means for harm.

None waited to prey on them,

but Russia.

But it was we who slaughtered.

Don Krieger

I have built satellites, worked in the operating room, been in a cult, …

I earn my living as part of a group which is trying to understand and treat head injury.

In my poetry and short blog pieces, I want to express ideas with unambiguous clarity and intensity.

I willingly sacrifice rhyme and meter, art, cleverness, elegance, and beauty for these.