another Why I Hate Cars Poem

One way (or another) that rotten old way of life
is just rodent bitten toast and whatever the cult
of MAGA Trump! of that’s what I believe to hell
with fact and fiction uber alles pay no attention

History is myth and myth is now a legendary be-
in character, a god among all the other great gods
sickly white ghastly shock face in a ever growing
out flowing blow back right in our face and those

Who had it all imposed upon us, this Knights of
the Round Table laying down in the quiet room
and hero with most thousand faces buried so deep
under all the stuff, the commercial debris tsunami

Of what they’re wearing-this first one on the block
to get that swimming pool full of electrical devices
we haven’t got enough cash to pay the taxes again
but look how much we’re worth there must be at

Least some meaning still hanging around the patio
if only we manage to not get blown up by those so
clever new “tactical” nukes and the old our way or
the highway which left no way to walk from here

To there these asphalt ovals encircling fully our each
and every possible way out again, and we’re so way
out but no matter something is ending and what’s
more things are already not the same and more so

Will never be the ‘same’ again and again I can see it
how things change from one form to another form.

 

James Van Looy has been a fixture in Boston’s poetry venues since the 1970s. He is a member of Cosmic Spelunker Theater and has run poetry workshops for Boston area homeless people at Pine Street Inn and St. Francis House since 1992. Van Looy leads the Labyrinth Creative Movement Workshop, which his Labyrinth titled poems are based on. His work appears weekly in Oddball Magazine.