Jane Shay Wald

 

 

 

En Route to Buenos Aires

 

 

We're one row back from first class seating

 I smell the food others are eating

 

It strikes me as a metaphor

Dividing line. The rich. The poor.

 

I'm rarely on the struggling side

Does this tar me with a false pride?

 

As our country loses wealth

It's everybody for himself

 

The poor are made to walk the plank

The rich are running to the bank

 

The Christians think they own this place

America, where my white face

 

Protects me with a life of ease

While Christians fall upon their knees

 

To curse god for our president

Whose birth they claim's not resident

 

 

 

Jane Shay Wald © 2012

 

Recoleta Cemetery, Buenos Aires

 

 

A cemetery in the middle

Of the city, big and little

 

Crypts above-ground, on their roofs

Angels drive out spirit hooves

 

Of Satan while the lowest carving

Cost the bread of hundreds starving

 

Cherubs fly through man made towers

God and man, uneasy powers

 

Wealth divides in our land too

The word of god and Jesus who

 

Our politicians preach the Word

Totemic in their pagan herd

 

As third worlds master internet

Our nation sinks, pressed by our debt

 

And as our GDP declines

The GOP smugly opines

 

That Christian values will create

A faith-based nation born of hate

 

Above each bed a wooden cross

With Jesus comes our freedom’s loss

 

 

 

Jane Shay Wald © 2012