My Grandfather’s God Poem

my grandfather's God Poem

My grandfather

I never knew how he voted
He was born in 1900.
I spent hundreds of hours
in the field with him.
Farmers,
“You boy’s ain’t hopin’ me.”
Plowers of fields with mules,
Growers of every fruit
every vegetable
every animal
milkers of cows by hand,
survivors of the depression,
Eighty acres and king tobacco,
Porch swings,

Who did he vote for?
It was nobody’s business and nobody asked.

Who was his God?
It was nobody’s business and nobody asked.

The Parson left him alone.
Matters between them were settled long before I showed up
without a father in his field.

I never knew a man with a more private God.
My grandfather never brought Him up in the field.
You don’t speak of Him up when He’s there.

………………..david michael jackson March 29, 2015

More on Mules

Jesse James Lament

Jesse James Lament
Zerelda Mimms Wife of Jesse James

 

Jesse James Lament

Jesse James Lament

I oughta jus’ shut up
I can’t say nuthin’ right
It’s obvious to all
I can’t see the light
oh
I didn’t listen to her
all night last night
She’s done told me before
that robbin’ these banks ain’t right

She said Jesse oh Jesse
whatcha tryin’ to do
stay close to the river
where the barges come through

When you get to the the highway
Follow the wagons to town
I’ll meet you at the hotel
In my traveling gown

Oh Jesse my Jesse
leave the bank alone
We’ll leave for Nashville
and start again on our own

I oughta jus’ shut up
I can’t say nuthin’ right
It’s quite obvious to all
I can’t see the light
oh
I didn’t listen to her
all night last night
She’s done told me before
that robbin’ these banks ain’t right
yes
She’s done told me before
that robbin’ these banks ain’t right

So get the horses, get the horses boys
This ain’t the day to save my soul
Someday you’ll claim it as your fame
That you rode with Jesse James

 

 

 

poem by david michael jackson [email protected]

 

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Jesse James
Jesse James
Jesse’s death is still a mystery

A Glitter of Gold

glitter of Gold poem

I’ve been durned and crittered
s-o-beed and quartered like a pig
I’ve been hung up, hung down
like a worn out wizzy wig.
I’ve been appraised like art
and thrown away like a rug.
I’ve been a scarab in a crown and a bug.
It seems that life will always be
that way for you, for me,
for we are
the wonderful imperfections
we were meant to be,
and there are those who
through the dust that was you,
that was me,
a glitter of gold will see

 

 

 

……………………………………2015 david michael jackson

Poem for Farmers For My Grandfather by David Michael Jackson

For my grandfather the farmer poem
For my grandfather the farmer poem

For my grandfather:

You said on that porch,
“I just can’t work no more.”
“I just can’t work no more.”
that’s what you lived for.

the porch is gone
the swing is gone
the well is gone
the chicken house
the smoke house,
the barn,
are gone.

the house is gone.
the cherry tree,
the apple trees,
the cows are gone

and the family moved to town.

Your tractor is gone
and the wire with which
you held it together.

That field is there
I stood in it again
it was empty and bare
without you there.

Yes that field is there.

You planted tobacco and
at the end of each row,
watermelon.

You worked me hard for a boy
but I know work
and having to stay
until its done.

The bell is gone,
to call the farmer to the house.

It was the house and the field.

the house and the field…

and town on Saturday.

The Modern Shanty Shack

shanty shack

When the U.S. decides to get tough on crime, when the U.S. decides in a right wing fervor to fight a war on drugs, the black man can’t hide. The war on drugs is a war on race and our marijuana laws have put another generation of young black men aside. The war has been waged by the political right who holds the young black man in total disrespect.
Too easy is it for the white man to drive his shiny car beside a young black man who is walking and wave this dreadlock generation off with the back of a hand as lazy and unwilling to work. Too easy is it for the police to find the easy drug on the easy suspect. Too easy is it for the white man to buy his guns at his white only gun show and too easy is it for the black man to have a felony for the same gun.
More prisons than colleges has created an easy industry around imprisoning minorities and poor whites because of a relatively harmless weed. This industry now extends it’s tendrils to the new “Probation Industry” as municipalities learn to profit from outsourced probation and sale of seized property. When police profit from arrests it creates an atmosphere based on profit, not service.
Easy police profiteering from the poor increases the probability that a young black man will have a record. In black communities it is common for black men to “be away on vacation”. The targeting of blacks has insured that many young black men can’t get that job that the white man in the shiny car thinks he’s too lazy for.
This leaves another generation of young black men disenfranchised and basically left out. The national shame is that good intentions led to sad and racist results which are denied by those with the good intentions.
The poor white is a Joe Clark also. The one thing the poor white has been given by the political right is the notion of superiority over minorities. This “gift” has caused the poor white folks to vote against their interest.

The modern shanty shack is a prison cell.

Earth and Water Poem

water poem

 

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Wash me

cleanse me

I drink you

I am seventy percent you

I am water

I am earth

searches related to earth

searches related to water

The wave rushes to the shore

then retreats to warn the next wave that

advance and retreat are futile

and the earth

the earth

the earth and water poem

hits the shore

the seemingly meaningless shore

………….by david michael jackson 2014