I Hear America’s Future Sing

I Hear America’s Future Sing

by, Hugh A Tague

From the ash of disaster rise the strong
Sown resolve forged in Colonial foundries
A new warrior floods the commonwealth
Young America sings Democracy’s song.

Beneath the blades of grass lies unrest
Wolves in shepherd’s robes forsake safety
Innocents taken paid the Devil In full
Classroom killing fields filthy with death.

A child soldier wields the Sword of Light
Striking the glutinous beast bowel deep
The creature’s squeal deafens the swamp
Traitors and thieves beg for their lives.

From the ash of disaster rise the strong.
Young America sings Democracy’s song.

My Pledge of Allegiance

Art Work by Marc Arroyo

 Art work by Marc Arroyo

My Pledge of Allegiance
by Hugh A Tague

A worm blindly spins the thread;
A fragile, meaningless thread.
Wove in unity with others,
Its true wealth not inherent.

A mast tethered swatch of silk
Dancing upon the gentle breeze.
Colored with bravery and sacrifice,
It becomes the standard of many.

Waiving an overture to the day
Exalted, the ensign flies on high.
Mankind’s clannish nature insure
Its dominion forever stands abstract.

For each combat-hardened gonfalon
Victorious upon the field of battle;
Blended with blood, another’s colors
Envelope the soil where it succumbs.

An oriflamme that burns for some
Deny the inclusion of a whole.
O’ to have a banner unite a species,
I pledge My allegiance to Humanity.

Org. Published in Sixteen Magazine

Feeling Memorial Day 2017

Memorial Day 2017

Feeling Memorial Day 2017

© 2017 Hugh A Tague

Seems fitting, here upon my life’s stage
gray skies keeps the sunshine at bay
on this particularly dark Memorial Day.
I wonder, are their souls abreast
can they see Democracy’s latest test
beneath the blanket of honor from which they rest.
Those who stand silent before Treason’s insight
disrespecting their sacrifice in spite
do not represent America’s plight.
Tears from heaven fall as drops of rain
their cry for justice I fear may wane
should integrity and honor die in vain.

A Nation Divided Our Children Cry


A Nation Divided Our Children Cry
by Hugh A Tague III

In a small Florida town a shot rang out
A hooded young boy just on his way home
Attacked by a man who brandished a gun
This battle this night he could not have won.

A perforated young heart beats no more
His blood flowed into the now hallowed ground
Yelling and screaming he put up a fight
He took his last breath that dark rainy night.

Senselessly and needlessly a life lost
So many questions the answers unclear
Leaving most of us just wondering why
A nation divided our children cry.

No one around to help him stand his ground
Who speaks for him now can his voice be heard
His bright young light was turned off much too soon
Now that light twinkles with the stars and moon.

A hooded young boy just on his way home
His blood flowed into the now hallowed ground
Attacked by a man who brandished a gun
This battle this night he could not have won.

Hugh Tague 7/17/13




 by Hugh A Tague
Gaslights gloaming deep amber rhetoric
 A train-wreck in reverse derailed in time
 Casting alternate darkness over hope
 Death and delusion with every pen's stroke.
 The desert's sand thick with my brother's blood
 Boots on the ground children in harm’s way
 Our body and mind no longer our own
 Jackals from afar secured his gold throne.
 Constitution of the people not of one president.
 RESIST all that's not true there is no alternate.

A New Trojan Horse

© Hugh A Tague
© Hugh A Tague

A New Trojan Horse
by Hugh A Tague

“The New World” more an idea than a place
forged from a sweltering ancient fire
the conception of inclusion
is old as the human race.

Continue reading “A New Trojan Horse”

The Crude Colossus

The Crude Colossus

The Crude Colossus
by Hugh A Tague

Not unlike a brazen giant of freak fame,
With transplant faux hair and a bad spray-tan;
Here at his brain-washed, iron-clad gates shall stand
A mighty moron with a torch, whose flame
Is the persona of gaslighting, and his name
Betrayer of Exiles. From his beacon-hand
Glows world-wide “No-Trespass” sign; his eyes scan
The bridgeless harbor that his sinful cities frame.

“Return to your ancient lands, you matter not!” cries he
With puckered lips. “I don’t want your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses scheming to steal from me
Such wretched refuse shall not set foot upon my shore.
Send these, the homeless, back across the sea,
The light’s off and I locked the door!”