An attempt is made to
Acknowledge the atrocities
Committed against thousands
Upon thousands of innocent
Human beings brutally
Denied their freedom and
Exploited for financial gain,
And the only response from
The talking heads is to
Gloss over the torment by
Changing the subject to
Something completely unrelated.
There’s no epiphany here,
No emergence of conscience
Where they realize that
What they’re doing is
Unequivocally reprehensible,
Or that some kind of
Immediate change is imperative,
All that seems to matter is
Covering their tracks,
Concocting some ridiculous story,
Lying to protect each other
So they can continue doing
What they’ve always
Gotten away with.
He has a glorious dream
About a perfect world
Free from the stifling
Tyranny of government,
Where corporations can
Do whatever they want,
And some magic force
Takes care of everybody
Except, of course, for
The poor and most others.
Unable or unwilling
To understand what
It is like
For a child to
Wake up each morning
Without a home,
Without food,
Without books.
They are all alike,
And she’s not,
Nor has she ever
Wanted to be,
A wave of ordinary sameness,
Each following
The same insipid song
Toward some distant cliff
Where they’ll all jump off,
Just because that’s
What everyone else does.
The tree’s branches
Have grown into another yard,
One where such things
Are not welcome and can only
Be dealt with in one way.
Plants must conform to
Strict standards of
Manageability,
Unobtrusiveness,
Acceptable stature.
Though the tree might be
A welcome spot of greenery
In another setting,
Spirited growth has no place here.
Holding his father’s hand,
He wonders how long it’s
Been since they left home
And how much longer they
Would have to walk through
This arid wasteland, so
Far away from everything.