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by Don Eli
The Beast of Empire patrols
a silent Latin American night.
Another poet is disappeared.
A union organizer's dismembered body
floats quietly down the polluted stream.
Villagers cower behind curtains
drawn in dismayed isolation
as the palpable spell of fear grows.
And peace without justice prevails.
The midnight sky of South Central Los Angeles
is floodlit by circling helicopters
as police gun down a resisting citizen
caught driving while black.
Trembling children cling in terror
to skirts of mortified mothers.
And peace without justice prevails
The Whore of Empire proudly displays
her lit up Las Vegas, glittering with promise
as the glamour of lust is aroused.
Hapless citizens dream of their lucky night.
Entranced for a glorious moment
before humbly retreating
to their feathered cells.
TVs light up suburban living rooms
where fat gluttons are seduced
with visions of grandeur
while they struggle to catch their breath
after a hard day of slavery
disguised as the American dream.
Enthralled by images of a better tomorrow
they vote with their silence
And peace without justice prevails.
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