They mean business and
Will not stop marching
Until their contemptible
Cravings are satisfied,
The urge for the next fix
Predictably – interminably
Beckoning in the distance.
Equality and fairness
Signify nothing,
Any hint of a thought
About helping anyone who
Has been felled by their
Machiavellian oversight
Is quickly ushered away.
The only goal here is
To gut the wounded creature
They disdain so much and
Lay its entrails at
The feet of their rulers.
I’ve got mine.
You get yours.
I’ve got mine.
You get yours.
I made it on my own.
Survival of the fittest, man.
Why don’t you just do
What I do.
Be self-made, man.
Quit whining.
Self-reliance, man.
No handouts.
Do what I do.
Call your dad already.
Too many years toiling in
Dangerous surroundings, risking
Life and limb with every passing
Eternity.
Too many years wiping the dust
From his eyes, a hacking cough a
Perpetual reminder of his career
Choice.
Too many years. His son came of
Age and was pridefully encouraged,
Expected, to carry on the family
Tradition.
I’m getting married;
Planning the wedding of my dreams.
No expense spared,
I’m a true princess.
I’ve known since I was six.
This is my day.
My day to shine.
My day to glow.
Oh, true love wrapped in
Bows and an oversized gown,
Used once. Only six stress-filled
Months to deplete bank accounts.
Joy and love, manicured, compulsory.
The weight of judgment.
He walked into the room,
Heard the music, and
Proposed that his favorite
Song be played. Turn it up and
Let’s all enjoy. Isn’t it great,
Quiet — this part is my favorite.
Eyes closed, mind closed, heart
Closed, closet door closed
Inches from your face if you
Don’t listen. A single dominant
Ear consuming all sound,
Ravenously demanding more,
A calamitous cacophony.
Cloistered in a
Secret room,
Away from meddlers,
He exerts total control
Over what they
See and hear,
A golden opportunity
To omit vital chunks
Of information that
Might lead toward
Justice rather than
His predetermined outcome,
Decisions made without
Outside scrutiny,
Sunlight occluded.
She always knew
He was extremely weak,
Something about the
Need to control every
Situation or the way
He would twitch when
His authority was
Questioned or any part
Of his self-aggrandizing
Pronouncements were
Challenged, a strange way
To live, always tiptoeing
Around the truth to save
An inadequate man’s ego.
Beep beep, here comes the car.
Honk honk, it heaves forward.
In the driver’s seat a small figure
Barely visible over the dashboard.
A quick hand gesture of disgust and
Impatience followed by a rather
Uncontrolled lurch onto the
Grass and the inevitable
Story about how the brakes didn’t
Work and the engine took off
On its own without warning.
Total absolution for the vehicle
Now resting in the living room.
He bloviates about the success of
His business, conveniently overlooking
The role of happenstance –
Right place, right time –
A product of pure chance –
No more effort expended than anyone else –
Pompously claiming prosperity is
The result of being
Extra smart, supernaturally savvy,
Gifted in some special way,
Unlike those he hallucinates
Don’t get off their posteriors and
Do something with the money they
Inherit from their families,
The arrogance of a windbag
Unappreciative of staggering fortune.
