»  Tom Morgan's "The Bomb on 42nd Street"

 

The Bomb on 42nd Street

by Tom Morgan, 1942-

 

•  Background

Personal-finance guru Tom Morgan is the host of Money Talk, which Tom believes may be the longest-running short feature in the history of American radio — 32 years and counting as at mid-2010 (and now on TV too). Tom also writes a weekly newspaper column.

Along with his other talents Tom is a capable poet. This is the third of three of Tom's poems I have posted: the first is here, the second here. The reader in all three cases is the poet himself.

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•  Play the reading

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•  Text of the poem

I dreamt they dropped the bomb last night, on 42nd Street,
And the silence of the tomb caressed Times Square.
Dame Liberty was gone,
Rubble rained and reigned upon her feet,
And nothing stood or stirred in New York air.

I dreamt a billion fingers stabbed the air toward those to blame,
And a billion tongues lashed villains everywhere;
They tarred enemies and friends,
Roared at God, and then in shame,
They blamed themselves and wallowed in despair.

Here's a thought that's pain to swallow, goes down like shards of glass:
To many, coal's snow, yang's yin and evil's welcome;
Lenses focus while they mirror,
Depths of horror coddle cheerers,
And liberty's no gem, just mud to some.

As virus plots destruction, and the plague lurks over wakes,
Poison lies in people as it does in snakes;
Flocks have black sheep, so do families,
'Tween the stars lie black holes too,
Evil's dwelt amongst us, make you no mistake.

So build your towering cities, bless them, praise them, spare no cost;
Lay out arteries for commerce, trains and water.
Think them permanent as granite,
A drink that knows no bottom,
A monument of, and tribute to, your culture.

Midst this grandeur, know there's cancer sure as sunrise;
Call it Evil or ignore it at your cost.
It lurks in all creation,
Bodies, planets, the universe;
Truth be honored, it lusts for Holocaust.