Tropical cages
inhabited by human forms
sculpted by the ailments
of our time
weak are the bodies
but still alive
huge eyes, white golf balls,
fleshless frames of bone
held at the Emperor’s pleasure
alive at the Emperor’s whim
there will be no heaven here
no trial, no escape; no release
gagging on the tube
through which flows the porridge
of  the heartland, nourishing
bread basket of the world
forced to live
lest he die;
mustn’t embarrass the Emperor 
or terrorize the netherworld
Cuándo saldré de Cuba? 
No crime equals barbed wire
or the loss of young erring sons
now sentinels, who used to play in the yard
but wandered away to guard the tropics;
the cancer in the body America.

About toritto

I was born during year four of the reign of Emperor Tiberius Claudius on the outskirts of the empire in Brooklyn. I married my high school sweetheart, the girl I took to the prom and we were together for forty years until her passing in 2004. We had four kids together and buried two together. I had a successful career in Corporate America (never got rich but made a living) and traveled the world. I am currently retired in the Tampa Bay metro area and live alone. One of my daughters is close by and one within a morning’s drive. They call their pops everyday. I try to write poetry (not very well), and about family. Occasionally I will try a historical piece relating to politics. :-)
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