Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Poem #142 of 365

Dress Obama in a Scottish kilt,
give Hillary a Oaxacan huipil,
tell McCain to sport a dashiki,
put Giuliani in a long black burka,

and make them soak together in a melting pot,
or drop them at a border checkpoint without papers,
or have them work a convenience store graveyard shift in the meanest hood in D.C.,
or embed them with students fighting it out with the TAKS test,
or put them in a hospital without medical insurance,
or lodge them in West Bank, post-Katrina New Orleans,
or simply let them get LOST in the REAL WORLD u.s.a.

for the most bad-ass intruiging reality tv show.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez


Anonymous said...

I'm glad he's at least not alone. Do you people know just how many kids he's had and walked out on?
gifted writer, sure, schmuck... that too.

a.k.a. sunlit doorway said...

I have wondered about Kell's children.
And about the children of so many "beloved"
and revered artists like Kerouac, Presley, etc.

I once was in radio broadcast studio with
the daughter of Bob Wills, Rosetta, who
had written a book about her father. It
was pretty obvious that Bob Wills had
neglected his daughter, becoming a
virtual stranger who appeared now &
then--in a long fancy car--to stop in
to see Rosetta and her mother.

Men do the wandering; women are often
left holding the bag, alone to survive.

Of course, the way that Kell has chosen
to live his life is something that makes
him appear "cool" as a "raunchy rebel."
But some of us know, and care to consider,
that there is always something else lying
deeper beneath the surface.