P O E M S by Alec Emerson

Lemon Ices

Boom.
Silence.
Screams.


Not to worry.
It happened twenty-two
years ago.


Just another bomb.
Body parts flying around.
The usual.


Anyway, Jerusalem.
A hospital even.
No kidding.


Replaced by a new wing,
the ex maternity ward
went away. The place became a
day care center
two surviving boys played in,
with their sisters.


Then the boys
learned who they were.


The Israeli boy learned
from his grandmothers' lips
about the Holocaust,
the Zion thing,
how to hate
the unappreciative natives.


The Palestinian boy learned
from his grandmothers' lips
about Deir Yassin.
The other massacres.
How to hate the strangers.


The Israeli boy became
an F-16 pilot, his weapons
fragmentation bombs.


The Palestinian boy also
learned to pilot despair,
his weapons walking bombs,
backpacks, fatpacks, whatever.


Once, when he was drunk,
he called them smart bombs.


They both enjoyed some degree
of success, even managed to kill
parts of each other's families.


Boom.
Silence.
Screams.
The usual.


But I digress.
What about those sisters?
Would you believe the
Palestinian's sister
is lovely, and loves Italian ices,
lemon ices to be exact.


Would you believe the Israeli pilot
saw her enjoying a lemon Italian ice,
and offered her another?
And she said Grazie!


Crazy kids. Idiots.
Fall in love.The whole enchilada.
Made Romeo and Juliet
look like an arranged marriage.


If more of their families had survived,
the boy and the girl would probably have been killed
before she had the baby.


But the baby, well.
The baby isn't quite right.
So test after test,
right down to the DNA thing,
whatever that is.


The only thing they could be
sure of, there must have been
a little mixup twenty-two years ago.


Boom.
Silence.
Screams.


And the brother and sister
adore their daughter.


Lemon ices.
Would you believe it? .

July 2009

listen to poem

Hua  Tev  Vuh

Hua
 
tev
 
vuh.

June 2009

Be Aware of Dog

One.  Be aware of God.
 
Two.  Be aware of God.
 
Three.  Be aware of God.
 
Go.

May 2009

TRACTORS AND BULLDOZERS

Ha! Gotcha.
And you
didn't think
there were
any poems
about tractors
and bulldozers,
did ya?

April 2009

DON'T  WORRY

I'm much
less competetive
than you are.

April 2009
Dedicated to José and Bonnie

PRISONS

Of all the prisms you can find,  
none beats the prism of your mind

April 2009

listen to poem

THE PROPER NAME

Put the horse
before the cart,
but only with a
horse named Heart.
                                

April 2009

THE SHILL ON THE FLOSS

You don't have to be apprenticed
to a dentist
to floss.
 
You don't have to sing
for a king,
to floss,
 
You don't have to like geese, a
root canal, or Teresa,
to floss.
 
But if you want tarter
to barter,
don't floss.
 
And to chew with brown stumps
of brown moss,
don't floss.
 
But to keep your teeth happy,
not gappy or cross, be they
flat white, or white satin,
or even white gloss,
you gotta floss regular,
or               gape at their loss.

September 2008

Dedicated to Teresa

listen to poem

MEMBERS ONLY

Imagine a pathological liar in the White House.

Imagine he starts a war with his pathological lies.

Imagine 80,000 people are killed.

Imagine that 1/4 of them, 20,000, are children.

Imagine that 1/2 of the children, 10,000, are girls.

Imagine 10,000 little girls stacked on the White House lawn.

Imagine glowing coals under a Texas-sized grill.

Imagine rich, glittering smiles.

August 2008

Dedicated to Skull and Bones

listen to poem

Trivial Pursuit

God was in charge of:

a) Andersonville
b) Auschwitz
c) Dachau
d) Guantanemo.

Trivial Pursuits

Americans have the most:

a) Corporate Prisons
b) Corporate Presidents
c) Corporate Congressmen
d) All of the above.

August 2008

listen to poem

Long before I was born,
Satchel Paige, lacking a home
plate, would put down a gum
wrapper and work the inside
and the outside corners
of the gum wrapper.

When I was a child,
I spoke as a child:
"I don't have anything against niggers.
Everyone should own a few."

Now, I am a museum piece,
going to a museum,
reading about how it once felt good
to hit a baseball,
just because it was white.
And I hope I understand.

June 2008

listen to poem

THE HAPPY HUNTING GROUNDS

So you wanna blow away another deer.
Heap big brave on native soil.

Be a dear.  Be fair.
Hunt something that shoots back.

Iraq. For a barrel of laughs,
a barrel of beer,
and a barrel of oil.

November 2007

listen to poem

BILL CLINTON EPITAPH

A GREAT NATION
HE WITH SMILE LED
WHILE MONICA NURSED
HIS OTHER HEAD

November 2007

 

 

 

listen to poem

GEORGE W. BUSH EPITAPH

IN SOLEMN STATE
HE SMIRKED AND LIED
LONG BEFORE HE
EVER DIED

November 2007

 

 

 

listen to poem

HAPPY  HOLIDAYS TO YOU

At two in the morning
under cover of night,
the body bags
come into Dover.

The President's vacation
must not be disturbed
by a few more
dead kids.

Sit down.
Relax.
Enjoy your
turkey.

November 2007

listen to poem

W ADDS LIBBY

Behold the sheik,
the spoiled cat,
betray again the sacred trust,
release his dirty rat.

July 2007

listen to poem

FAIR WARNING

The Germans had their kristallnacht.
Their dream of uber alles.

The Americans have their blitzkrieg of Iraq.
Again the song of breaking glass.

July 2007

listen to poem