This poem is a bit on the didatic side, but I like the flow of the lines & certainly the mesage.
It was written by Frank Sloan, of El Dorado, Ks. You can reach him at
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Ex-firefighter, ex-beat cop, ex-dirt farmer/cowhand/bouncer and current garden center flunky; Frank Sloan lives and writes in a small shack near the heart of the American empire.
balance of trade we don’t make enough goods to balance what we buy overseas. every day, as a nation, Pilgrim, we slip further into hock. every day, as a citizen, I slide further into dismay. we can’t pray hard enough to balance our addiction to gadgets. we can’t work hard enough to balance the freight bill with our spiritual life. every day, as people, Pilgrim, we loose a bit of our humanity. every day, as stewards of ourselves and our world. we let those blinded by bigness and power make too many critical decisions. we can’t scramble fast enough to balance their greed and ambitions. we can’t search our souls deep enough to balance their stubborn denial. these sad facts dog every step we take and every reform we consider; we can’t change fast enough to balance the damage already done, we can’t stand still long enough to quell the shattering surge of uncertainty and fear.
Last update : 08-12-2007 07:49
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