He has to win
All the time,
Or everyone loses.
Tantrum after
Horrible tantrum
Erupting.
An ugly spectacle
Writhing on
The floor.
He grew up in a cozy neighborhood
Within a bigger town.
His mind developed just enough to
Leave room to spare.
He reached great heights professionally,
Smaller inward gains.
At every pivotal moment a
Narrow voice promising certainty.
Glad-handing each
Other, a winking
Back-slapping herd
Plans its next
Assault on the
Defenseless.
Not a single
Compassionate
Dissenting voice
Beseeching to
Stop the
Carnage.
There’s really not much to it,
Just keep them off-balance by
Scaring them to death and feeding
Them a steady diet of misinformation,
Keep their attention on something
Else while you steal everything
They’ve got behind their backs
As they blame the wrong entities
For their continuing misfortune.
Another day passes
Uneventfully as the
One before it.
Walking through the halls,
Smiling at only
The right people.
Forming the cliques
Required to establish
Power and position.
Practicing the stratagems
Necessary to secure
The circle of influence.
Predetermined steps
Up the ladder,
Preserving the club.
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.
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.
