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!”

The Feathery First Mate

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“The Feathery First Mate”
(QUATRAIN) In first person
by Hugh A Tague

Gliding high on a warm ocean breeze.
Over white sands beaches and bright blue seas.
Or perched way up high in a coconut tree.
That’s just a few places that I like to be.

From my crown to my tail and on both my wings
Color abounds, red, blue, yellow, and green.
when pirates came to visit me in my tree,
The captain of the ship took a fancy to me.

Continue reading “The Feathery First Mate”

America Deceived

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America Deceived
by  Hugh A Tague

The American dream was once so clear
equality and freedom was the call.
“We The People” see through rose colored glasses,
while the wealthy cover their greedy asses.

False prophets preach to the mindless minions,
cloaked within a facade of righteousness.
With funds made from the sweat of the deceived
they reign supreme from the highest of seats.

Forty acres and a mule once proclaimed,
still we’re played for fools by those we elect.
Hungry and homeless children go to sleep,
both parents work still they can’t make ends meet.

Just poverty and despair trickle down,
our working class poor bearing the brunt.
Their children in service now blindly stand,
for corporate profit they die in foreign lands.

Forty acres and a mule once proclaimed,
false prophets preach to the mindless minions.
“We The People” see through rose colored glasses,
while the wealthy cover their greedy asses.