by Mr Babylon

In the delta saltgrass or texas cotton
The ghost of the blues lies still,
Breathless and silent to remain undiscovered.
It creeps along gravelly roads and dusty highways,
Inching towards opportunity in the north,
And diving into ditches to remain unseen.

There its source lingers,
Born among the grief of forced immigrants.
But its energy has moved on,
Covered the continents in changeable form,
And left a bit of its spirit
Anywhere souls seek whiskey and sorrowful sound
To mend their dark moods.
Where sensual and sacrosanct leanings
Melt effortlessly into one urge,
Like the ancient axiom of oriental origin.
A/ritual/for/balancing/opposite/sides/of/the/human/spectrum.

Tags: ::CREATIVE WRITING::, american dream, failed democracy, immigrant, in search of truth, poems, Poetry

by Mr Babylon

On a humid Houston day
I went looking for a haircut.
For three dollars and change I got a clean cut,
And a quick glimpse at the last flickering
Of the phenomenon known as the American dream-
A refugee from a war that sent boys with no future
To destroy a distant asian land,
His smile held no trace of the cynic,
And His eyes shined bright with hope
and gratitude for a foreign power,
Willing to intervene often
for self-determination and democracy
Or to trade bombs and helicopters
for dollars and lives,
And in failure give tickets for a new life
far from a war-torn home.
A story told often in classrooms and kitchens
The glue of a nation of immigrants
with disparate origins abroad.
But how long would hope reign
For the progeny of this pioneer
in the face of ignorance and ill treatment
will his son turn bitter and his daughter homesick.

Tags: ::CREATIVE WRITING::, american dream, failed democracy, houston, immigrant, in search of truth, poems, Poetry