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.
What if they don’t like what I offer?
Worse yet, what if they don’t like me?
What will I do then?
What will I do next?
If I just think about it a little longer
I’m sure I’ll find the solution or
Deflate like an errant souffle.
What will I do then?
I know. I’ll keep obsessing
Until I’m unable to move.
The placid life of a statue.
That’s what I’ll do.
He becomes upset,
I try to make it better
But realize there’s
Nothing I can do,
And never was.
We hear about more
Human beings getting
Slaughtered, utter some
Disingenuous, meager platitudes,
Wring our hands a bit,
And then do nothing
To stop the carnage.
They disingenuously claim
That it’s not about
The implement, but rather
The person, but it’s
All too painfully clear
That’s it’s really about
Making money at any cost.
She attended a workshop required by
Her employer and found that it
Directly contradicted everything
She experienced at work each day.
How to reconcile incompatible philosophies,
Battling worldviews, half-hearted
Gestures to improve nothing.
Sit at your desk, do your work,
An ego will be by presently to
Overwhelm your spirit.
They toil to change
The school curriculum
To reflect a self-righteous
Thirteenth-century view
Of the world.
A wonderful realm where
Education succumbs to
Superstition, where
Strict hierarchy imposes
Its arbitrary whims.
A king on top,
Everyone else in tatters,
Barely subsisting,
Summarily subjugated by
Master manipulators.
The one thing they
All knew about him
Was that he had an
Answer for everything,
Greatly overestimating
His actual knowledge,
Which consistently led
Him to not get along
With almost everyone,
Himself included.
He feels so small that
Everything he does is to
Become bigger
Than anyone else, so no one
Can get to him the way
They did.
Suppressing yet another
Burst of emotion, he transforms
Sadness into blinding rage against
The tormentors who
Look at him askance or
Make him feel
Less than huge.
The accoutrements of weakness
Surround him,
He relishes the fleeting rush of
Confidence.
All he’s ever done
Is impose his will
On others,
Trample on their peace
And well-being,
Infringe upon their
Comfort,
Do whatever he wants,
When he wants to.
He doesn’t care
Very much about the
Obscene piles of
Cash the bankers
Made off with,
Leaving behind the
Worst financial cataclysm
Since The Great Depression.
He prefers to focus
His self-righteous ire
On the hapless bystanders
Pitilessly ruined by
The conscious malfeasance
Of financial criminals,
Now forced to queue up
At the food bank.
You didn’t have to leave me like that,
Holding my disbelief, a goldfish in a
Plastic bag, swimming aimlessly without
Anywhere to go, hope of escape,
Knowledge of anything else.
I’d grown accustomed to our dance,
The one where you lift me and
Let me down and throw me up in the air
Only to watch me fall, a knot of bruised
Feelings, unresolved questions.
It’s really not
That complicated,
Though so many people
Have such a hard time
Figuring it out;
Just live your life
Without stepping on others,
Be kind, giving,
Enjoy your time on
This earth by being
Someone who understands
We’re all in this together.
He’s worked long hours
For many, many years,
Serving demanding patrons who
Often barely notice he’s there.
Every two weeks he checks
His bank account to make sure
His money has been deposited,
The future at stake.
Today his daughter found out
That she has a scholarship
To the local university’s
Medical program.
A couple of tables down,
A woman leans over to
Her husband and whispers
About the foreigner.
I can’t convince you to be happy, to
Let go of the pain, to treat people well,
Like yourself, heal the hurts,
Overcome the fear.
I can’t implore you to dismiss many
Years of habit. Wavering foundation
Settling for crumbs, ease elusive,
A rippleless lake startled.
I can’t sway your mind to follow a
Sunny path lined with wildflowers,
Brimming with hope, the last cold
Gusts of winter warmed.
Don’t avoid me,
Assuming I’m
Different from you,
Trying to hurt you.
Talk with me instead about
How we can work together,
Fix what needs fixing,
Solve what needs solving.
As rivals we compete,
As friends we build
A new world
We both enjoy.
They come in the
Middle of the night,
Unannounced,
Uninvited,
To pay a harrowing
Kind of visit where
The host disappears
For as long
As necessary to send
A clear and unequivocal
Message that dissent
Is not tolerated and
That there will be
No protesting against
Any of the glorious
Policies which have
Brought everyone
To this point.
Let’s go back
To those heady days
When we could own
People as property
And not pay them
For their labor.
Let’s work them
Until they drop,
Night and day,
As we become
Increasingly wealthier
At their expense.
Let’s close our eyes
To their suffering,
Supplications for mercy
Falling upon hardened
Hearts unable to feel.
As we sip mint juleps
At a garden party,
Lets pretend there’s
No other way to
Do things.
His forebears fought
Mill owners for
Some modest bit of
Dignity at work.
Not so many years later,
He ascends to the
Pinnacle of his profession,
The highest seat of power.
He takes the hard-fought
Lessons of the past and
Ruthlessly maims them,
Juris without prudence.
A snide retort and sneer
All that remain of
A legacy of struggle
For fairness.
This is what
It comes to and
What it’s always
Been like.
A human being’s
Life extinguished
By a system that
Doesn’t care for him,
About him,
Or his kind,
And a person who
Fears him.
Rabid supporters
Line up
To perpetuate
The sad narrative.
Everyone asks him
About his fancy new car;
He revels in the attention,
Offering gleefully meticulous
Explanations about everything
From how he bought it to
What’s going on under the hood,
A conspicuous absence of any
Conversation of real substance
Or a life of any significance
Beyond what everyone is
Already comfortable talking about,
A group of people standing
Around wearing masks.
Single-minded, limited,
Inflexible, unyielding
Perspective, unwavering,
Unchanging, ungenerous.
Closed-fisted myopia
Fed by runaway fear.
A history of pain
Repeats itself.
Effortlessly flows the line onto
Paper, tracing its own trajectory,
Following its own muse,
Imbuing its own energy and inspiration
On fortunate space. Pensive,
Thoughtful, thoughtless,
Eclipsed by passion,
Joyful abandon manifest.
Instinctive, automatic,
A whirl of ecstasy.
It takes a great deal of
Cowardice to hate another
Human being, vulnerability
And love being far better
Measures of courage, a
Certainty discovered late,
If at all, by so many
People who live in fear.
Looking out over the sea of
Beaming, proud, sputtering faces,
He remembers no specific
Moment when he was forced
To decide, but rather a pervasive,
All-encompassing presumption
Of how it should, would be.
His heart’s desires too small,
Too insignificant to compete with
Countless years of tradition
Pulling him into a metal box and
Swiftly sealing it with powerfully
Misplaced notions, expectations.
Apparently, all I was worth was
One phone call in the last
I don’t know how many years.
You told me how important I was.
Words come and go, floating by in
Teeming or sparse configurations.
Alluding, promising, seducing,
Unconvincing me.
Faded, creased picture in my mind.
I try to recall what you look like;
A mocking expression, a snide smile,
My worth rushes into focus.
Spewing from his mouth,
A most foul string
Of words, assembled and
Projected with vitriol
At the object of his hatred.
Exposed as a frothing bigot,
He goes into standard
Damage control mode,
Insisting he’s not like that,
That he respects all people.
Things progress as expected,
He minimizes his misconduct
And begins whining about how
He and his family have become
Targets of negativity.
You can’t possibly hear me when
You’re talking, every rebuttal a
Blow to cordiality, each defensive
Twitch eroding trust, weakening
Compassion. I realize you know
Everything and those who bear this
Gift have a crucial responsibility to
Ceaselessly share their thoughts,
Bury all others in the avalanche.
We all sit at
The dinner table,
Silently eating
What mother has made,
Talking only
When father decides
It’s appropriate,
And then only about
The approved topics.
Hierarchical,
Authoritarian
Narrative.
Bowing to the master,
Waiting for the
Next instructions to
Allay our discomfort.
They always
Know better.