I take a chance to
Speak my mind and I’m
Instantly uneasy,
Such is the nature of
Consciousness, a moment of
Certainty followed by
Inevitable questioning.
What the answers might be,
I don’t know, though
Others assert they do;
I don’t believe them,
It’s always the ones who
Say they know everything
Who really have no clue.
Polluting their minds with a
Sordid deluge of misinformation
They willingly immerse themselves in,
All semblance of civility, decency,
Savagely slaughtered, replaced by
Unnerving, unnecessary, unfounded
Cries for justice if not outright vengeance
For packaged, fabricated trespasses,
A resounding victory for the propagandists.
She nonchalantly
Repeats the word:
Thugs.
It reverberates
With visceral
Effectiveness.
Countless minds
Racing to
Ruthless judgment.
The relentless
Tyranny of
Loaded language.
She toiled in obscurity
For many years and
Suddenly became an
Overnight success.
Where before she couldn’t
Even give away her talent,
Now there was not enough
Of it to satisfy the
Clamoring masses hungry
For a piece of her magic.
She remembers all the
Years of struggle,
Laments the countless
Millions who haven’t yet
Been discovered,
Understands the fleeting
Nature of fame,
The role of chance,
The risk of forgetting
What really matters.
You’ll find it
At the top of the hill,
In that house no one
Lives in anymore,
Where that one family
Nobody talks about
Endured all those
Unmentionable things,
Collective loss of
Memory, the weight of
What we actually are.
A ragtag group of
People unhappy with
Where the country is going
Assemble to voice
Their anger at a
System that has
Let them down.
Waving flags,
Chanting slogans,
United in their vitriol,
They rail against
The people who aren’t
Making their lives
More difficult.
In a Swiss bank account
A tidy fortune slumbers,
Carefully tucked in
By one of the few
Who betrays the trust
Of the many, turning them
Against their only allies.
Since she was
A little girl,
She’s been told
That this is
What she should
Behave like,
And this is what
She should look like,
And this is whom
She should marry,
And this is what
She should wear,
And that this
Is her lot in life.
As soon as
She possibly can,
She leaves it all
Behind for the joy of
Self-determination and
The freedom to celebrate
Who she really is and
Follow her own rules.
Beat mercilessly
As a child,
Belittled,
Minimized,
Robbed of any sense
Of self-love,
He gravitates toward
Others with
Similar wounds.
They form a
Movement of
Violent hatred,
Subjugating other
Human beings,
Killing undesirables,
Craving the fleeting
Feeling of power,
Never satisfied.
A cult psychosis,
Collective hypnosis,
Fabricating a false
History, distorting
The truth, exorcising
Personal demons by
Trying to take over
The world instead of
Healing themselves.
This part of town
Isn’t the same as
It used to be,
Gradually life has
Supplanted decay,
Introducing a new
Vibrancy and energy
Where once only
Shadows existed,
Though one can’t help
Wonder what happened
To the people who
Used to live around here.
