Systematic destruction
Of self-worth replaced
With rigid decrees for
How to live life,
Zealously, nervously
Monitored, lest there be
Any defections, the
Preservation of the sham
The only goal, an insecure
Stack of lies desperately
Trying to justify its
Contrived existence.
An institution created by people
With an insatiable need to control
Others and enrich themselves at
The expense of the needy and
Gullible.
A cleverly designed trap, difficult to
Escape without risking death or
Eternal torment. Dogmas lined up in
A pretty little row, questioning
Forbidden.
Surrender your free will, you don’t
Have to worry about a thing,
We’ve got it all planned out,
A totalitarian scheme to divest you
From all.
They gather together
Pretending that
Everything is okay,
Forced smiles on.
This is the
Only occasion when
They experience some
Semblance of normalcy.
It means so much,
Their routine
Existence so
Thoroughly toxic.
The rest of the year,
They meander in a
Disconcerting whirlwind of
Fear, pain, self-loathing.
This one day is
As close as they are
Able to get to
Sanity.
He calls his
Grandson’s passion
A hobby,
Reducing dreams
To dust
In an instant,
Encouraging conformity
To arbitrary rules
Born of fear,
Crushing blooming flowers.
Though he had often
Heard that one is
Supposed to be oneself
And pursue one’s dreams,
The messages rattling
Around in his head
Kept him from doing
What he really loved,
Settling instead on
A pale imitation of living.
Palpable anger in her countenance,
She addresses the camera
With an intensity reaped from
Incessant childhood horror.
Wrapped in a tailored suit,
She hawks the latest rip-off
With no remorse,
A polished peddler of misinformation,
Negligently representing the
Banal and dangerous,
Selling herself for a dollar and
A misguided sense of power.
Standing in front of an audience
Offering dubious expertise
Projected upon him by
Equally clueless followers,
The mere fact that he stumbled into
Being in the right place at
The right time and made
Mountains of money
Leads people, including himself,
To believe he has some special ability
That others don’t, beyond sheer luck.
He talks at length about
Nothing that matters.
He works hard at
Inciting a riot,
Inflaming the mob
Until the only option
Is taking out their
Abundant, misplaced hate
On that abstract other,
The person they fear most,
The reflection of their
Own insecurities and
Total lack of insight.
Galling.
The sheer magnitude of
His inability to
Admit responsibility.
No need to start
Now, he’s never had
To concede anything.
Appalling.
Sad.
Final.
