Last day at my office, and I'm cleaning out files… I found this.

It's the epilogue to my first novel, which still sits in LA unpublished over an argument on the name of a character. It's about the failure of our leadership. It's been about seven years since I last read this… and I get the sense it's more true today than when it was first scribbled during a vodka-induced rant across a bar napkin somewhere in the Battery of Manhattan…

Thought I'd share…


The Men on the Hill

at the set of the star, when each pass down Our Hill

to a plate ever gamely and cup overfilled

the men, they forget, the source of their fare

it was those in small town where cupboards grow bare

now ignored to provide allies’ weight in pork

they carve with the tongue, to drive us to forks

there are men on the Hill, who sneak and conspire

to cohort with Brutus and lead to new choir

there are men on the Hill, denying their fault

as they deepen the wounds and scourge them with salt

there are men on the Hill, not just one, nor one team

confuse his ambition with one country’s dream

a cry comes each voice, are there men on this hill

to stand by the cupboard, risk politic killed

you are safe on this Hill, for the process is rare,

that another ascend to relinquish your chair

on the hill is a hush – now a cast of the blame

now a finger is wagged, to preserve masters’ fame

but fall to the side, when the masses erupt

for power is fickle as power corrupts

are there men on the Hill? each street cries fervent

to answer this call as public servant

are there men on the Hill, stand up if you will

a hush…

a hush…

there’s no man on Our Hill. 





Speak your mind


Resources & Links