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