Donna Dawn Konitzer


Ruling class –
Upper class,
omnipotent aristocrats –
           shatter fast…

A poor girl's dreams.
Thinking it a delusion of grandeur –
A lesser woman's desire to climb to that…

Highest rung on the ladder.

Laughing at (and oft' times undermining) her efforts to…
           Bring success to fruition.

   •   •   •   •   •


A dozen,
perhaps more,
tired peasant farmers toil away
for hours—
smashing and grinding,
with tired feet,
the coca leaves that feed my need.

Making only pennies
and perhaps a meal or two,
smashing leaves to paste—
tearing feet and toes;
the chemicals burning them,
killing them …
over time.

But they don't know this.

Overfed drug lords
fight over territory,
prancing around as they display newly-acquired wealth
in theiur cheap, tacky clothing,
as beautiful autos drive them through
the barren streets
of the poor, destitute cities
they enslave.

The status quo remains.

Nobody does anything.

The war on drugs is a farce.

With all her might,
Amerika is a fool in the eyes of the world…
Allowing something so insidious and destructive
to become so pervasive.
The problem could be wiped out in one strike,
yet nobody makes this suggestion …

Saddam thumbs his nose at us and it's grounds
for war.
The Colombian drug lords fill our streets
with the filthy product of their greed
and nothing is done

Who are the REAL terrorists?

Two towers fall, killing thousands of people;
U.S. retaliation is swift and severe.
The Colombian drug lords kill thousands every year,
prepping more for death every day.
Nobody does a thing.

The hypocrites in Washington look the other way.

   •   •   •   •   •


For you,
sheathed inside;
soft, like velvet …
A warm moist silken shroud.

For me, a sweet fullness,
soft biting,
nails scratching,
moaning …
tunneling my warm depths

Waves peak;
come crashing down again—
over and over and;
throbbing … then stillness,
in your embrace.

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