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Modern American Poets
Poems by Maia

NEW poems by Maia! Find here her recent works inspired by the Katrina
hurricane that devastated New Orleans - Here Maia shows her grief in a
ballad and other poems dedicated to the suffering people of the world.

    	Crimes Against Humanity:  "...(when) good men do nothing."  

	"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good
	men to do nothing." Edmund Burke.

               "Good people"...
               steepled church, cathedral-goers
               safely worship-housed
               on bent knees pewed
               imbued with prayer,
               their heads bowed to clasped palms...
               psalms-singing, alms-bringing,

                              "good people"... doing nothing
                              for the dying,
                              crying for the tanks to stop,
                              a crop not burned,
                              turned into fuel to feed
                              another's war,
                              more dead land
                              and mass graves...
                              for the hand-wringing,
                              life-clinging, dying.

               "Good neighbors"...
               labor unions' loyal members,
               ready volunteers, 
               block parent-posting,
               hosting road clean-up weekends,
               friends of earth do their bit  
               litter-sacking... trash-packing, 

                              "good neighbors"... doing nothing
                              for the screaming,
                              streaming tears of wives next 
                              poor raped daughters,
                              slaughter-headed ones,
                              sons on drugs,
                              thugs' victims
                              two blocks away...
                              no help on the way
                              for the muck-attack-lacking   

               "Good folks"...
               jokes not aimed at ethnic types,
               tolerant, kind, smile-ready,
               steady helping hands
               band-aid funding welfare mothers...
               brotherhood-spewing, wealth-accruing,
               noble deed-doing, 

               		      "good folks"... doing nothing
                              for the ethnic "cleansed"
                              flensed of skin not           
                              imbued with gods
                              at odds with those
                              chosen ones...
                              guns and bombs
                              a constant screed
                              for the good-deed-needing ethnic "cleansed".

		Good people live in a house of mirrors 
		on a road paved with good intentions,
		pretensions of good-doing
		skewing reality
		they camouflage in pretty bits of charity,
		clarity denied...
		spied, it would expose the lie... 
		a ruthless truth less appetizing, is realizing
		"good people" do nothing... while good people die.

the power of prayer

they prayed for Katrina to pass them by
then prayed that it wouldn't be bad
they prayed that their homes wouldn't be destroyed,
along with all that they had

they prayed then for loved ones to be okay
and prayed they'd survive the night
they prayed they'd be saved before they drowned,
that they'd see the next day's light

they prayed for the Super Dome to hold
then prayed that the roof wouldn't leak
they prayed that the missing, the hurt, the sick,
would be rescued, along with the weak

they prayed then for levees to not be breached
and prayed that the worst had come
they prayed that if ramparts broke anyway,
to floods they wouldn't succumb

they prayed trucks would come for the refugees
then prayed they would live that long
they prayed that the National Guard would come,
not in hundreds, but thousands strong

they prayed on the second, third and fourth day
and prayed non-stop, hand-in-hand
they prayed for food and clean water to drink,
for a way to get to dry land

they prayed to gods, to their leaders who lied
they prayed, and they pleaded and cried...
just like all those did, who died!

Breaking news:
In Iraq today, 1,000 devout pilgrims are feared dead, crushed and drowned, when
a panic ensued after someone yelled that a suicide bomber was in the crowd. Many more that number were seriously injured. Most of the victims are women and children. They were on their way to pray at a holy shrine.
Toronto August 31, 2005

   Location, Location, Location!

or Basin St...
where would you rather
when nature's wrath
descends upon
earth's most
fragile kind?

Ganges' delta,
or Mississippi's...
which would you rather
beside, knowing cyclones
must come and
cannot be stemmed
by puny man?

In wind, flood, havoc
where would you be
and cared for best,
while hell's fury
does its worst
and then goes?

or Basin St....
where would you rather
when all you owned
has blown away
and night befalls
your soul?

or New Orleans...
which would you rather
shelter in
when homeless and bereft
of possessions,
and loved ones?

In wind, flood, havoc
where will you likely be
by those who'll care,
after TV's eyes
have come
and gone?

Casinos gone?
Don't expect me to cry, as gambling is a curse.
Oil rigs gone?
I won't much care, higher gas bills won't hit my purse.
Super Dome a hell?
Can't sympathize, as Dacca's victims knew so much worse.

A lovely city destroyed in America
is sad and a shame, to be sure...
to see millions displaced is a tragedy,
a catastrophe all find hard to endure...
but, at its worst, it still can't hold a candle
to when nature strikes those not so blest,
like floods and tsunamis and humans' attacks
in Bangladesh, poor Darfur, and the rest.

We're so spoiled, we who live in the West!

    Lives in Limbo

From Dome to Dome,
I call bleachers “home”
‘til the powers that be
know what t’do with me.

In a land this grand,
I don’t understand
why I have to stay
sardine-packed this way.

To the stars and mars
we shoot our space cars,
but to New Orleans
we can’t truck Marines?!

I’m just one of a ton
Katrina’s undone,
who thought the U.S.
was great, in duress.

But wait for Fate
to evacuate,
seems all we can do,
with no help in view.

Stuck here, I fear
I’ll just disappear
while officials meet,
drag their nice, dry feet!

MAIA is an American poet and essayist, though she considers herself a citizen of no nation, but only a sentient being of the universe at large. This statement is important to help us understand her poems, her ideas. Most of her writing is about controversial themes, easy to understand if we look at some of her titles listed above: every title is a statement, kind of modern Wordsworth. She has a unique style, she says things in a way both direct and frank. Her straightforward lines are meaning being the content more important than form - the form comes as a consequence of the meaning. All of her poems can be read aloud, and be nice to our ears and at the same time she makes us to face our reality, sometimes a crude reality as she sees it.
Maia uses a plain English to reach people of every condition and in all corners of the world, especially those who have English as a second language as those living in countries out of the English world.
And she is not a mere preacher of the good and the evil, but she is also a practitioner of her believing. One of her duties imposed by herself in this earth is to help people providing some of her abilities to master the art of writing, fictional and non fictional stories for free, world wide; especially for people of the emerging countries. You can reach her at: maia3maia@hotmail.com or go to her web site: www.saysmom.com


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