Stately columns adorning
A shaded portico,
Stately oaks lining
A shaded lane,
Lush, sultry greenery,
Small decrepit cabins nearby,
Inhabited by enslaved human beings
Whose toil builds ever-larger
Mansions where rulers
Live off the forced labor
Of others who have no choice
But to hope for a better day.
She never quite
Trusted him,
Something about
The fake smile,
Overconfidence in
His supposed intelligence,
A general unease,
Lack of connection.
It’s all smiles and
Warmth until he decides
That the prevailing
Beliefs are not his
Cup of tea, that’s when
A side he’s never seen
Before rears it’s head,
A writhing creature
Bristling with
Reproach and suspicion
At the prospect of
Someone not toeing the line,
Forcing them to reflect
On who they really are.
A giant corporation making
Billions doesn’t pay any taxes
While a family of four
Barely getting by on
Two minimum wage jobs does.
In one corner of the
House, someone was reading
Something that went
Completely against what
Everyone else in the home
Deemed appropriate,
Something so revolutionary
It might actually allow
Some light to shine upon
An otherwise shadowy mess.
He fancies himself a
Person of above-average
Intellect, a distinction
Which allows him to make
Pronouncements about all
Kinds of thorny topics
About which he has little or
No expertise, except in
His own mind, building a
Rather robust echo chamber
Where the only thing that
Matters is what he thinks and
No other point of view has
Any hope of getting in,
A complete divorce from any
Verifiable facts, which
Leads him to
Make decisions that
Deeply hurt others.
I can tell
As he’s talking that
He’s somewhere else.
I ask him about it
Without receiving
A clear answer.
Sometimes
Questions
Aren’t welcome.
A wealthy banker
Playing games with
Other people’s money,
His slippery maneuvers
Causing the economy itself
To collapse, buried under
An avalanche of deceit,
Gets paid hundreds
Of times more than
The diligent person
Washing his dishes at the
Upscale restaurant he
Frequents for lunch.
It was over when
He started spouting
Jarringly vituperative
Untruths and fabrications
As if they were
Empirical facts.
So strange to think
That there used to be
A bright intellect there,
Furtively usurped by
All-encompassing fear
And absence of love.
A moment when an ordinary
Human being can no longer
Contain the inconsistencies,
Succumbing to
Formerly hidden impulses
With feral abandon.
