It starts with Antigone –
heroine renown,
old Creon did not stop her,
respect of hallowed ground
wove through her soul
and brought death into
healing – this tragedy is
told, sorrow lends an ear
the minstrel sings the song.
Her words are words of
Biblical psalms.
Rebel, rebel
he knew the score –
harkening back to the ancestors.
Breaking chains and releasing bones
brought a noose to Mr. Turner.
Rebel, rebel,
in the land of bunk,
get your snark on,
don your funk.
Joyce Heth’s virtues
Barnum twisted
into gold.
Slavery is so old.
Take back –
hack you write
of Miss Lonelyhearts and
and Horatio Alger in disguise.
Optimism is an American virtue,
sans teeth, sans legs, sans eyes.
He realigns vision of
Dante’s hell into another
circle.
Ah justice you are a disease,
eating away at yourself.
6-2018
Anne's mediocre poetry 
Definitely not ‘mediocre’ poetry–you should change your tagline 😉 Great stuff!
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Thank you. You are so sweet. I love your poetry too!
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