The Boys

Early morning, a few blinking street lights 
off in the distance 
Red flashing color slices its way through the darkness; 
"...stop don't rush the day has not dawned yet..." 
Perfection in, just bitter enough coffee 
with a dash of cinnamon - aroma therapy 
a sentimental tapping into a holiday season 
that has always resonated peace and good will 
I wonder what Francois drinks as the sun rises over the city of lights 
How strong the coffee is that slip between the lips 
of Vladimir as he saddles up for his A.M. ride photo op in-style
Or Bashar as he reads the daily obits 
sipping some strange brew, pondering what else is there is to do 
- rattle sabers background white noise 
I wonder, briefly, if Rivlin and Benjamin break bread 
while gathering stones 
And if Mamoud stays in bed a moment longer to clear his head 
before the first one is thrown
Does Barack grab a cup of joe while on the go
kissing his girls as he rushes to the daily debriefing 
And what if anything starts the day for Hassan and Mahmoud 
when a figure head is only recognized in the palace 
paper to pen and a pot of Persian tea simmers ever so slowly...

I think about things like this 
as I linger over the perfection in 
just bitter enough coffee with a dash of cinnamon - aroma therapy 
a sentimental tapping into a holiday season 
that has always resonated peace and good will

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Hail To The Red, White And Blue

There is nothing subtle
about how far right things swing
how far right things shake and break
twisted arm from movers and takers
bend over backward
or lean on me
but nothing is solid
nothing is a sure bet
when the battle becomes so convoluted
the leaders and followers
become one in the same
like a dog chasing its own tail
or the tiger chasing the tiger
sweet butter in your mouth
take a deep breath
it may be the last unfiltered
climate change deniers
never carry an umbrella
throwing snowballs
for dramatic effect
while the sand continues
to slip away
the snowball continues
to melt
and congress continues to give
the middle finger to the masses
a Majestic Fuck You 
Hail to the red white and blue

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Political Agenda

Fine smooth facial lines crisscross

like a jagged war torn village road
a mapping of your indiscretions
never deviating from the facts
truths be told - behold the awkwardness
leaving a distinct manicured impression
unique to a solitary finger print
left at the scene of an other wise
meticulously assumed moral crime
your party established the rhythm
and patterned the rhyme  
knowing full well without hesitation or pause
slight acknowledgement
...sleight of hand
...tip of the hat
and wink for well wishers...star on the rise

You can hold your own confidently
in a world of bigoted gamblers and frigid ladies men
dropping by unexpectedly - is not your style
a plan well executed there is no need for substitutes
or complacent passive aggressive denial
transparent wide lip color stained grin
adheres for only a little while
...because there are no surprises
when the lights are purposefully dimmed
and you methodically pull back
the blankets that comfort, 
keeping the sails secured and trimmed
skin warms up slightly to a vacancy of touch
with a tinge of remorse, yet there is never very much
leaving it to the drama of a well fed media soaked imagination
secrets alluded to, yet never spoken - out loud
there remains a disturbing non stop white noise
...the burn of white knuckling frustration 
buzz kill switch off - solid electrifying reaction
tantalizing, cautiously denying
frozen in time self sabotaging attraction...

The simple truth of a political agenda... 


© 2014 TrilbyYates