Smiling as he votes
For reprobates who will
Butcher the vulnerable,
He feels like his
Cherished slice of the
Exclusionary pie
Remains his to enjoy.
Who do these people
Think they are,
Trying to get their filthy hands
On my stuff?
I’ve worked hard for
What I’ve got.
They need to go back
To where they came from.
A sudden hush
Interrupts the mirth,
Uncomfortable downward stares.
Beaming in his chair,
He revels in his obnoxiousness,
A well-honed ability
To annoy everyone around him.
That’ll show them,
He thinks to himself,
Every day a battle against
Nice people
Who care about the world
And each other.
Nobody wants
To be on the bottom,
Especially not them,
Which makes them
Supremely susceptible
To anyone suggesting
They can regain
Their former glory,
Which never really
Existed in any form.
Vastly overestimating
How much his success is
Due to ability or industry
Versus chance,
A blip in time made
Possible by circumstance.
Rhapsodizing at length about
Nothing, everything,
The sound of his voice
Reassuring him that
His pronouncements carry
Some kind of special weight,
That he’s smarter than the rest,
Dismissing anything
That threatens his
Engorged ego.
He’s fine with government programs
That help him and the people
He’s comfortable with,
Which excludes those who
Don’t look, think, and experience
The world like him.
Talking to friends,
He complains that those people
Have had a free ride for too long.
What’s he ever gotten,
Except for everything?
She was raised to be a
Good girl, follow the rules,
Respect authority, answer
When called, smile when
Addressed, defer when
Pressed, put others first.
She met a familiar young
Man who swept her
Off her feet, told her
What to do and when to do it.
Her conditioning complete,
A life of smiling subservience.
At the pinnacle of success,
No other position higher in his field,
An unparalleled opportunity to
Make a huge difference
In the lives of people
Who are enduring the same
Slights he experienced,
He looks the other way,
Choosing instead to
Join his oppressors,
Making the lives of millions
Much more difficult,
Forgetting the chance he was given.
They huddle together
In their towns,
Wary of outsiders,
Hanging on to a myth
About how things are
Supposed to be,
Devised by people
As scared as them.
After the crusade ends
In carnage and devastation,
They recede into their lairs,
Pretending it never happened,
That they were always
Upright citizens.
Years pass,
They remain the same.
