A Time for Hope

This is a time of year for taking stock of how our country is measuring up to its values stated in the Declaration of Independence.  I have been working on a response to Langston Hughes ‘Let America be America Again,’ but it’s not yet ready to share.

This is also a time for hope, when we can see where our country has strayed from its stated values, question some of these values, and do better.  The late George Carlin had a lot to say about hope, and in the poem below I debate this with him.

George Carlin Said

Fuck Hope?

Fuck no, George!

You gave me more hope than

any holy trinity of bloviating talking heads.

Hope and ranting rage

against Nixon, Reagan, Catholic dogma and injustice.

Hope and the courage to be despised and taunted

and alone in the support of principle.

Hope and forgiveness to commit trespass 

and sit in lockup under guard of gas masks and attack dogs.

Hope in the knowledge that wordy crowns of thorns

can cross boundaries and open hearts.

Hope isn’t the milk and cookies before bedtime

that lures you into a false sense of security.

Hope is the rudderless, whiskey-barrel boat

that sails on a windy wing and a prayer for guidance.

Hope lies not in feel-good speeches and on-line petitions

but in feather boas and bombast, human shields and barricades.

Hope is that itching, fist pumping irritation

that upthrusts middle finger and taunts you into action.

We used to shout at Nixon, “Make Love not War!”

Let us joyfully copulate with hope;

make lots of little hopes

little black, brown, red, yellow

pink, blue and white hopes

who will go and fuck more hopes

‘till we breed away lethargy and despair.

As you go ungently into that good night,

rest in hope, George, and rest in peace -

as if that were possible.

Fuck.