UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
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JASON KELLY RICHARDS
All the Maniacs are gone And no one's left to argue the obvious like Hunter S. Thompson, or explore the extreme like Allen Ginsberg, and Timothy Leary. Kerouac would piss on the prophets of today with their cookie-cutter verse and perfect punctuation. Who's going to guide us into the abstract urging enlightenment each word of the way, forging further than sacred necessities, traditional wisdom and the extremities of exact conversation? Without Bukowski, who will escort us into the heart of the whore or down alley ways where the minimum is more than enough to escape a world of escalating confusion which has became middle-of-the-road? Jimi, Janis, and the Lizard King opened a void still unfulfilled decades after their demises left the musical landscape desolate and confused of direction. Without John who will urge us to imagine a perfect world? We have endured too long without the confessional freedom of artists unafraid to bare their emotional baggage. We need the blunt and abrasive language of Larry Brown and the recklessness of Kurt Cobain, or we are doomed to the robotic structure of greed and unoriginality until someone rises from the stench of corporate monotony and expands the media past the production line plethora of bad poetry and a strong bass line. Where is our messenger to offer encouragement in these uncertain times that the written word or an immaculate melody can still be considered a voice for the ages? Just Another Rodeo Sprawled naked in a ditch like a rape victim afraid to report the crime. Hollow as a politician's promise and practical as a coat of paint on a condemned house. A relic of the past same as affordable housing and livable wages. Its future's blood saturates foreign soil everyday camouflaged as freedom. A myth perpetrated by public officials, guided by greed and believable as a B-grade movie. A tale to entertain the masses as the world we know evaporates before our eyes. Once a commodity within reach for even the uneducated who paid taxes saved pennies and was willing to work overtime. A shadow as the percentage on the pedestal dwindles and the influx of foreign labor falsely projects growth margins and boasts a ruptured economy while reducing wages. Tumbling shortly after the towers when our leaders sold us short with intimidation by shoving alarm into the headlines and reaping the rewards of remorse. The erosion will continue until this arrogant administration rides into the sunset enabling a new sheriff to recapture the shredded hope and the American dream again becomes more than just another rodeo, too exorbitant for the ordinary. Jason Kelly Richards was born in Kentucky in a classic year for Chevrolets, raised in North Carolina during the best decade of music and is currently planning his escape from the Sunshine State. His work has appeared in many publications including The Chiron Review Pearl, PoetsCanvas, ThunderSandwich, UnderGround Voices and several others. |
© 2007 Underground Voices |
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