calling the cavalry

back in the day,
when the outpost
was really
up against it,
they sent a rider out,
on the fastest horse
to get word to
the cavalry,
that they were in dire
straits

so many millions of us, now
dispossessed
distressed
compressed,
left vacant,
singing a descant:
don't forget about me!

time runs,
and hope fades,
conjunctions
cease to function,
and we all form
a mournful parade
marching,
ever onward,
to our demise,
smacked down
by the corporations
whom we rightly
despise

so bad now,
so unrelenting,
that some of us
have given up
repenting, and chosen
guns and crazy thoughts,
to try to save ourselves
from lots that we never
have chosen,
that were thrust on us
while we were frozen
in fear,
in misfortune,
seeing what we had lost,
and what it had cost,
no light at the end of the tunnel,
just a potato
being forced through a funnel

if there's anyone out there,
listening to me,
could you please,
when you get a minute,
call the cavalry.



April 11, 2010.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.