Poetry by Tim Windisch

All while my poor head pounds


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All while my

poor head pounds

She pushes an

old cart from a place now boarded, picks up shiny metal objects to add to what
she’s hoarded

All the while

talking to herself seemingly unaware, or after so many miles pushing her cart
she just don’t care

The cardboard

walled shelter inside an abandoned store, dirty surroundings curls up with a
blanket on the floor

Why do we turn

away from this kind of situation? Lord too many homeless people all across our
great nation

All of these thoughts

fill my head, the politicians sounds; try to divert your attention all while my
poor head pounds

He worked his

whole life fixing shoes on his block, but because he’s an oriental he was
knocked brainless with a rock

His poor wife

of 42 years kneels over him and looks to the skies, another innocent victim
dies and his family cries

Slow-moving

traffic around her mumbles about “those people”; same ones dressing nice on
Sunday at the steeple

Singing the

songs of praise and reciting from the Holy book, put your words into action,
turn your head and look

All of these

thoughts fill my head, the politicians sounds divert your attention, all while
my poor head pounds

Don’t be

worried about your kids learning a different way, education makes you understand
but it doesn’t make you gay

Instead of

being so concerned with people voting twice, how about helping all to vote,
wouldn’t it be nice

In areas that

reflect where the people actually live, not realigned to include more big
spenders with plenty to give

As the

temperatures rise to dangerous levels all around the earth, look past your shiny
cars at that sky tell me what it’s worth

All of these thoughts fill my head, the politicians sounds

divert your attention, all while my poor head pounds

“His sons a

druggie, he’s a liar, he is hiding behind the law”; yup and that one should
know, with more indictments than I ever saw

A list of his

top officials who aided his re-election convicted of child porn; the lot of
them lying through their teeth as they were sworn

As the shoe

polish ran down the sides of panicked Rudy’s face, I swear I heard DA Schiff
tell ADA Stone “You haven’t got a case”

False bravado

and inflammatory tones when he speaks, but in the courtroom he’s as quiet as a
mouse with red cheeks

All of these

thoughts fill my head, the politicians sounds divert your attention, all while
my poor head pounds

Teach your

kids and tell your friends

This rhetoric

it never really ends

Learn to

listen no time to relax

These issues

before us will shape tomorrow

Live in peace

or perpetual sorrow

Cut through

the bull, follow the facts

Pay attention

to the words of the politicians sounds

I’m trying to

sort it out all while my poor head pounds

Tim Windisch

08/10/2023

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Poetry by Tim WindischBy Tim Windisch