Poetry

Obama: A Negative Prognostication

A fortune teller once told my wife that I was a black cloud

Hanging over her head.

I tell whoever will listen that Obama is a black cloud

Stealing their breath,

Stifling their wherewithal,

Pressing down on the free enterprise of the map.

We are both black.

I lie.

So I’m white.

I feel black.

We are inhibitors.

I celebrate my pinching the nose of my own respiration.

Our promises undercut themselves.

I like to be difficult.

If I were a black leader I would make my people proud.

I would not be a mistake.

I would not calculate my racial and liberal votes.

As for Obama

He is playing poker with a deck of spades.

He has no hearts, clubs or diamonds.

Ideology has no room for love.

I identify with the hurt of internal darkness and see suicide

In an executive order.

Obama has wiped out a generation who cheers for their own demise

Like a gladiator laughing while he is eaten by a lion,

An arm twitching while it is eaten by a shark.

The community has become disorganized.

His utopian plans are ripped like the New York Times in the wind.

The journalists’ columns lie dishonestly on the ground and in our ears.

 

 

The views expressed in this opinion article are solely those of their author and are not necessarily either shared or endorsed by EagleRising.com


About the author

David Lawrence

David Lawrence

David Lawrence has a Ph.D. in literature. He has published over 200 blogs, 600 poems, a memoir “The King of White-Collar Boxing,” several books of poems, including “Lane Changes.” Both can be purchased on Amazon.com. He was a professional boxer and a CEO. Last year he was listed in New York Magazine as the 41st reason to love New York.

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