Prophet (Poetry)

For Woody Allen

He said the whole world’s broken —
his voice complaining thin —
short words of doom clear-spoken
though few took note of him.

Each day unfolds its headlines
where stories prove him right —
there are no magic medicines
to give the blind their sight.

Few care about the problems
and none will shoulder blame —
no promise for the jobless
no crutch to cure the lame.

No measure of the damage
when no one dare admit
it might be wise to salvage
what’s drowning in the shit.

Standards have all fallen —
the perfect is long past
there’s no one strong to call on
and nothing’s built to last.

The truth was in his warning —
some sensed it all along
while most were busy scorning —
the little man’s not wrong.