Martin H. Levinson Verse-Virtual 2016 February

February 2016

I have published nine books and numerous articles and poems in various publications. I am a member of the Authors Guild, National Book Critics Circle, and the book review editor for ETC: A Review of General Semantics. I am currently putting together a collection of my poems for publication that I have tentatively titled Signal Reactions. Besides writing, I like reading the mystery novels of Georges Simenon and taking leisurely walks in the woods. Please visit my website at martinlevinson.com.

Vive la France

I’m a cartoonist, a cop
   and a wandering Jew
in a French Kosher Market
   with Charlie Hebdo and

Jean Jacques Rousseau,
   pushing a cart filled with
Gallic bon mots and
   free-thought gateau.

Opposite us is Denis
   Diderot telling another
Enlightenment Joe,
   enough is enough,

you got to get tough
   on those who play
rough to get what
   they want.

Albert Camus says
   they must be on meth
if they think we will bend,
   think we will break.

Vive satire, Voltaire is
   on fire, penning Candide,
an irreverent read, he was not
   shot when he tried to mislead.

The Marquis de Sade
   who is taking a soak
says can’t take a joke
   that’s directed at you

or some other folk,
   object with your mouth
not with a gun, we beat
   back the Hun and

we’ll defeat you.

Channeling Churchill

   “Never give in. Never give in.
Never, never, never, never--
in nothing, great or small, large
or petty—never give in . . .”
—Winston Churchill

I am Winston Churchill combating the
   black dog of depression and
endless lines of cars, trucks,
   and SUVs at five p.m. on the L.I.E.

I am Winston Churchill fighting the frustration
   of being stuck for four hours in a dark subway
tunnel on a sweltering June day inside an E train
   with no air conditioning and no lights.

I am Winston Churchill on the
   frontlines at the DMV battling
bureaucratic bombast, bluster, and
   badinage to renew my auto registration.

I am Winston Churchill hunkered down
   at the doctor’s office, killing an afternoon,
trying to get a lousy signature on
   a prescription refill.

I am Winston Churchill slogging through a
   checkout line at C-Town five minutes before
my meter is due to run out with a
   ten-minute walk to the car.

I am Winston Churchill at the Battle of the
   Bathroom where my building’s co-op board
wants me to pay for damage to my apartment
   caused by my neighbor’s leaky pipes.

I am Winston Churchill taking incoming from
   my spouse who says she hates New York
and wants to move to the country which leaves
   me vexed and perplexed but fortunately

I am Winston Churchill . . .