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Dec 06 2011

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New York Poet Reflects on Public Policy

Steven Leonardo Clifford is a fresh poetic voice from New York with more melancholy than one human can handle. He’s been featured in the webzines Calliope Nerve and Eviscerator Heaven, studies English Literature at Suffolk County Community College, and is currently masterminding an absurdist novel. He’s awesome and definitely didn’t write this bio.

Considering the corruption, nepotism and sleaze I’ve witnessed in politics, I asked Steve to write something reflective of the present state of self-serving party politics that maligns public policy making. It’s yours to interpret.

 

The pulse is muted

The town squirms to the speechless phenomenon,

everyone grieving independently, viewable if you

squint your mind’s eye. A kitten twitches. In a missable corner, a typical house stands:

a victim of the nation’s drought.

 

And jobs thrash an ultimatum: slave here or the street’s your blanket.

We then begrudge our post for eternality. A cat cries voicelessly. This house harbors rejects, chemically whitewashing affliction

daily. Passions prune here.

The cat limps. Kids perform apostasies on their dreams.

With the innards of their hopes, they animate

 

sustainable abominations.

A stranger approaches a beckoning cat, scurrying off. These kids

core harsh facts

and inject zombielike peace.

 

Their blood free-falls.

 

The cat reemerges with a new cyst.

They whistle before decrepitude’s massive eye. Many dread the

crumble, while they leap to the aftermath. The cat sniffles her gory nose, and seems

 

fine as she plays.

 

Society regards this curable gash as an ignorable scar,

like mangy cats marooned to a junky backyard. These creatures

share a

freakish bond, as comrades of

 

aimlessness.

They embrace one another in blizzards,

run pass each other passively, hostility obsolete by the winter,

and they rub against one another intimately.

 

They live the sinful silence together.

One loud roadkill.

The clamorous news knows life’s rawness as an

acquaintance.

 

Uninterruptible noise provokes a perplexing fever,

as poverty avalanches blindly. Her death glimpses the sheer sinkhole,

and mutilated culture replaces that void.

 

Now, homey warmth means doping up after work.

 

Troublesome, fantasy seeming media afar

creep up on the interior of ordinary life. Ugly subtleties form a horde patiently.


Dedicated to- Danielle Marie La Barbera. R.I.P.  

 

Permanent link to this article: http://queens-politics.com/2011/12/new-york-poet-reflects-on-public-policy/


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