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