Glad-handing each
Other, a winking
Back-slapping herd
Plans its next
Assault on the
Defenseless.
Not a single
Compassionate
Dissenting voice
Beseeching to
Stop the
Carnage.
Going back to the place
Where he grew up and
Finding that it is not
The same as he remembers,
Dreams of recapturing his
Youth dashed in an instant of
Realization that things can
Never be as they were,
No matter how much he
Wishes them to be.
They assert
The world will
Always be the same,
Will never change,
That people will
Invariably be the way
They have always been.
Pessimistic myopia
Asserted by dreamless
Sorts who have been
Hurt at some point and
Cannot trust that
There is still abundant
Kindness in the world.
Insist you can’t
Make things better,
And you’ll perpetuate
The familiar suffering,
Believe you can
Change the world,
And you will.
There’s really not much to it,
Just keep them off-balance by
Scaring them to death and feeding
Them a steady diet of misinformation,
Keep their attention on something
Else while you steal everything
They’ve got behind their backs
As they blame the wrong entities
For their continuing misfortune.
Another day passes
Uneventfully as the
One before it.
Walking through the halls,
Smiling at only
The right people.
Forming the cliques
Required to establish
Power and position.
Practicing the stratagems
Necessary to secure
The circle of influence.
Predetermined steps
Up the ladder,
Preserving the club.
One step after another,
They walk together,
At least they used to.
Things are rather
Different now, but
Neither knows what to say.
Words without import,
One looks at the sky and
Says it might rain.
Being a curious person I couldn’t
Resist looking into the neglected building.
A lonely desk, papers strewn around,
Period pictures on the wall, dust
Coating everything, gradually muffling
All distinction and memory. My companion
Talked about the good old days when
Things were better, people were kinder,
Life seemed simpler. Everyone knew
His place, not this one.
The opportunity to
Show the world how
Compassion and community
Can elevate a nation.
Play nicely with monsters,
Pretend they’re not there
To destroy the place,
Profile in trepidation.
What might have been
Becomes what isn’t,
A wasted chance to
Do the right thing.
The sun sets on
Desperation unattended,
Leaving behind a sorry
Rotting carcass.
A bright light shines
On his embalmed face
As he promises the
Screaming throng of
Sycophants that he’ll
Destroy everything that
Provides safety and
Dignity to the destitute.
A roaring cheer explodes;
Finally, the prospect of
Putting the power back
Into the hands of those
Who least deserve it.
Teary eyes hoping for a
Better day for the chosen,
A far worse plight
For everyone else,
As it should be.
