Sitting by himself
In a staid office,
Accompanied by all
The memories that
Have hardened him
Beyond reason,
A gnarled knot of
Repressed pain issuing
Decisions that routinely
Damage human beings,
A violent vortex
Nothing escapes.
Reluctantly they’re forced to
Break character and acknowledge
That we’re all connected,
Not separated by malicious,
Misleading designations
Conceived to benefit the few
Rather than uplifting the many.
It won’t last, their entire
Worldview requires an enemy.
At a certain age,
He found out that
One of the benefits of
Living in a free society
Was being able to express
His views about absolutely
Any subject, regardless of
Whether he knew what he was
Talking about or was aware
In any way of the unpleasant
Repercussions of his beliefs,
Whether they would ravage
The very freedom he professed
To love so much or relegate
Certain people to second-class
Status, he really could not
Have cared less, all he truly
Was ever concerned about was
Getting back at someone.
They’re trying to explain
Why we should care for one another
But this one guy sabotages
The conversation, forcefully
Interjecting unsubstantial,
Loud-mouthed carnival-barker-like
Falsehoods based on some strange
Utopian fantasy where
Giant corporations provide for
Everyone and human beings
Magically prosper in spite of
Massive obstacles and
Rampant selfishness;
What the guy never mentions is
His persistent fear that
One day he’ll lose everything,
Scarcity his calling card.
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.
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.
It’s on video,
The story of
How things have
Always been,
Out in the open.
Recoiling in horror,
They hate that they’ve
Been discovered,
Not a drop of
Remorse or
Self-reflection,
Total absence of shame.
Intimidate,
Escalate,
Retaliate.
The tools of
The insecure
Tyrant.
Forcing
His hurt
Into others.
