I hear America crying. <br />Poets and politicians as war heroes. <br />Surgeons and priests as common criminals. <br /> <br />And where are the philosophers <br />As deployments threaten to consume us? <br /> <br />Destined to the peeling wail of a teetering helicopter, <br />Small mosquito in the eye of God. <br />So certain of our grave futures. <br /> <br />Listen, America, dry your tears, <br />Don’t bask in the permanent grandeur <br /> <br />Of abandoned radio halls of tears <br />birthing orators and oratresses. <br />Steam clean my words for the masses, <br /> <br />Bards at the podium, <br />Breed the false telegraphs of failing <br /> <br />Presidents, gatekeepers of heroic bosoms. <br />Purple hearts bleed red <br />For the barbaric backbone of war, <br /> <br />Another chicken bone speech makes good soup <br />For the ailing and the sick <br /> <br />Wounds as the craters of ants. <br />And this great organ called the 'Heart' <br />Is no longer deemed necessary <br /> <br />As we walk on water like Jesus, <br />Apprenticed for Armageddon.<br /><br />MARINA GIPPS<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bards-at-the-podium/
