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                              A MAGAZINE OF FICTION, POETRY & MORE!
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     ZYGOTE
            IN MY
                COFFEE.COM

ISSUE #4
 
  $O.OO
FEB. 2004
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                                ZYGOTE IN MY COFFEE.COM
                        
***BIO*** Doug Draime, poet, short story writer, and playwright has been writing and publishing for many years. Recent chapbooks, "Slaves Of Harvest Harvest" (Indian Heritage Publishing, 2002). "Unoccupied Zone" (Pitchfork Press, 2004). His work has appeared in magazines, newspapers, and broadsides worldwide since 1969. Born in Indiana, he has lived in Pittsburgh, Chicago, West Germany, Los Angeles, and moved to Southern Oregon in 1981.
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Poem For A Political Poet
by Doug Draime
           What honor is there?
            The lie creates idols of
                    death.
            Why hang the grave clothes of the
            Old man on the new man?
            And, from where, brother poet, does your
            new man emerge?
            Ideas? Concepts of Cultural Global
            Political Revolution?


            Politics is a grotesque lie.
            Politics is a vexation of the spirit.
            Politics is an affliction of the mind.
            Politics is the devil's street game.
            I see the rage in your face.
            I am grounded with the brilliant rage of your poems,
                    into the sense of your sensibilities.
            Your language has always been my language; your
            words I know from the very blood of my soul.



            Often we react to the
            oppressor with stupidity.  When we
            don't acknowledge that stupidity,
            it becomes iniquitous, and the psychotic
            barbarians resume their dance in
            praise of the dying atmosphere,
                    as once intelligent men
                        and women
            pay homage to dictators, liars, butchers,
            who promise equality, liberation; men
            who would cut the throats of your children for
            an idea.
            Men whose souls rot and stink with
            the hatred of innocence and regenerated life,
                men who collectively tortured, enslaved,
            and murdered millions upon millions of people,
            men who would pour wax over poets and
            burn them as candles in the bloodied moonlight.