We've Got Some Chairs














We’ve got some chairs,
Some beautiful chairs no one can sit on,
Right over there,
In the room no one can enter,
Unless it’s a special occasion,
Like somebody’s birthday,
Or Christmas.

We call it our living room.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved




We Americans












We Americans
Speak of our founding fathers,
Our proud heritage,
As if it were all etched in stone,
Authored by God,
This young country,
This work in progress,
Fresh from ignorance and sin,
Sinning still.




On Moonlit Freeway













On moonlit freeway
I see the weariness in your eyes,
A few stray strands of hair
Around your face
Illuminated against the black
Inside your car.

It is late.

We who work overtime are driving home
In silent, anonymous autonomy.
Though I’ve seen you a thousand times before
In full fluorescent sun,
Numbed by office decor and decorum,
Tonight in my rearview mirror
I see the phosphorescence of your truer self,
Your innocence.

It is the innocence of the oppressed
Who, after overtime is through,
Have nothing disingenuous left.





~ by Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Donald Flintstone




~ Cut & paste by Russ Allison Loar
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)