One Size Fits All

October 2018 | poetry

We

advertise, commercialize, consumerize,

supersize, downsize, computerize,

digitize, dot compromise,

televise superficial gals and guys,

so we can

fantasize, romanticize, glamorize,

tantalize, eroticize our hum drum lives.

We

monetize, industrialize, globalize,

monopolize, bureaucratize,

hire CEO’s that scandalize,

(steal $1thousand and we criminalize,

steal $1million and we penalize,

steal $1billion and we aggrandize).

We

militarize, destabilize, brutalize,

demonize, victimize,

it’s us or them dichotomize,

(that’s just how we Americanize),

elect politicians who tell us lies,

refuse to use our minds and eyes,

willingly de-democratize,

don’t ask any how’s or why’s,

do you want that with fries?

We

evangelize to Christianize

those heathen non-consumers

so as to legitimize

our greed in religious disguise.

Do we wonder why they terrorize?

Now we’ll always

fly unfriendly skies.

We

who would Wal-Martize

the earth until nothing

is left to franchise,

must realize

it’s humanity’s future we compromise.

Will our grandchildren

look back on us and despise?

by Michael Baldwin

Michael Baldwin is a native of Fort Worth, TX. He holds a BA in Political Science, a Masters in Library Science, and a Masters in Public Administration. He was a library administrator and professor of American Government until he wasn’t. He has been published extensively in poetry journals and anthologies. His poetry was featured on the national radio program The Romantic Hours and has twice been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. He won the Eakin Manuscript award in 2011 for his book, Scapes. He won the Morris Memorial Chapbook Award in 2012, for Counting Backward From Infinity. His book of Texas poetry, Lone Star Heart, was published by Lamar University Press in 2016. Mr. Baldwin has also published a mystery thriller novel, Murder Music, and two collections of science-fiction short stories, Passing Strange, and Surpassing Strange. Mr. Baldwin resides in Benbrook, TX.

Silica

October 2018 | poetry

i carry infection in saliva

like a point of pride

see, my city reeks of bone

tall skeleton skyscrapers

i’m numb again

as dental drill enters me

year after year

what birthed my decays?

raised to desire new

wants every day

wanting even wanting

my dad worked at a ford factory

after the great depression

churned out a new kid

every few years

seasons of rust

spreading on steel

here’s the sunset

he’d wake us to say &

spend the days molding

the yard

rough hands on saw

that was satisfactory

to him

for me oaks are cold towers &

grass not godmade

took a clump in my mouth

from the graveyard as a child &

i swear i tasted

death

but could not digest it

i’m but a skeleton

all life’s experiences

slip through me

masticating childhood

no pondering

the future with mom and dad

scooping fries at ponderosa &

we’d always go for seconds &

mint ice cream after

by James Croal Jackson

James Croal Jackson is the author of The Frayed Edge of Memory (Writing Knights Press, 2017). His poetry has appeared in Rattle, Columbia Journal, Hobart, and elsewhere. He edits The Mantle, a poetry journal, from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Find more at jimjakk.com.