Sam Boehms

The tallest tree in the forest
is hit hardest by the storm,
But beneath his limb’s long reaches,
The forest floor stays warm,
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What do we do with the pyramids
Those trophies built of dirt
What about the palaces
still guarded by men in shiny shirts
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A child he was
and now he's a soldier.
From baseball to bullets
although he's no older.
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America. You used to sell sermons and now you sell soap and still no one is clean.
Your grime used to be black. It used to be thick and noisome. And now
It smells like roses and appears clear and carries with it the cancer.
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this is Me
who I was, who I am and who I will be
both slavery and liberty
a deceitful soul and morality
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Men injure, they fracture, they maim.
Women break, they dishearten, they cripple.
Wounds from men hurt at the source
and men have the means to heal them.
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