On his deathbed,
He croaks out something
That sounds like,
“I love you,” to his
Daughter, having been
Unable to express it at
Any other time,
A sadly hollow gesture
That would have
Meant much more if
He had had the courage
To say it along the way.
Letting people starve
Because they weren’t
At the right place
At the right time,
Or didn’t have the
Same opportunities,
A helping hand when
It was really needed
(But that is too often
Downplayed under the
Guise of self-reliance)
Or someone to offer them
A job or pave the way
For success in some form,
Or because they didn’t
Look or sound a certain way,
Or weren’t accepted as
Part of the group.
Glorified dualist vision,
Good versus evil,
Us against them,
Our people distinguished
By excellence and virtue,
Theirs huddle in
Laziness, barbarism.
Manichean perspective,
Forced tension between opposites,
Only one true good.
Disparage, separate, deprecate,
Dismiss with animosity.
Unworthy of consideration,
Cast aside unceremoniously.
Everyone watched with
Consternation as he
Unraveled before them,
Spewing forth the saddest
Kind of misinformed
Presupposition possible,
Dogmatism drawn from a
Tainted source, profound
Fissures created long ago,
Bubbling under the surface,
Ready to erupt at any moment,
One such as this.
Moments later he moves on
As if nothing happened.
An unspoken code
Keeps them all
In line, sporting
The same clothes —
Physical appearance —
Mores —
Social rules
That keep them
Stuck in a delusion
Of normalcy based
On fearful assumptions
About almost everything.
A mob of privileged
Brutes gleefully singing
About never letting
Some (expletive) into
Their clique.
Not an isolated incident,
Yet another typical
Example of the seething
Contempt one group has
For another.
These things don’t appear
Out of nowhere,
Carefully cultivated,
Encouraged by
Role models.
Upstanding citizens in
Places of power
Perpetuating hatred
And division without
The slightest remorse.
Not sure what to
Say when the request
Is made, perhaps it
Signals the end of a
Brief relationship,
But most likely just
Reflects two beings
On different paths,
Neither better.
In times of insecurity,
They coalesce into agitated
Swarms, screaming for relief,
Yearning for a big daddy to
Come along and make
Everything all right again.
As is always the case,
Someone or many someones
See the glow of opportunity
And swoop in making empty
Promises that soothe the
Raging fever of uncertainty.
Once the horde has been
Seduced, their masters rub
Their hands together with
Glee and prepare for the
Upcoming bacchanal of
Looting and pillaging.
He’s angry all the time.
He’s been this way his
Entire life, as long as
He can remember. He says
It’s because he has passion,
Conviction, but it’s
Really about the other things
He’ll never talk about
To anyone and tries to
Pretend never happened.
