Here we go again:
one more white supremacist,
hopped up on Tucker Carlson,
popping off in nurtured rage!
Here we go again:
one more white supremacist,
hopped up on Tucker Carlson,
popping off in nurtured rage!
Though we disagree
About this country’s problems
And about the solutions
We both remain patriots!
How was it my fault,
Dad,
When those dime store Wallabees
Melted through the furnace grate?
How you always chided me
When I said I was afraid,
“Don’t be such a fraidy cat.”
Now you stand and seethe, enraged
Learning what I always know.
Floor grates lead to misery
And premature, stinky, deaths
For green plastic army men
And your cheap-ass knock-off shoes!
Walking sullied streets,
noting all the old deceits;
gold leaf peeling off in sheets.
~
Cracked and weathered stone,
reminiscent of old bone
cast aside to rot alone.
~
Maybe I’m jaded,
but it’s luster has faded,
past dignities degraded.
~
How have we become,
so uncaring, heartless, numb,
is there naught that can be done?
~
Dare we even try
to uphold truth to that lie,
“Great Republics can not die“?
~
If we can’t, we’re done.
Hare on off and have some fun.
Democracy’s race is run.
There are times, my friends,
it’s better to be silent
than to just shoot from the hip,
saying any old damned thing
that springs to a senile mind!
Do heroes have to be perfect
in order to earn our respect?
Must they be free from all blemish?
Is that what we’ve come to expect?
How much stain, how much tarnish,
how much of a character blemish
can be glossed over by splashing
on coats of whitewash and varnish
before the seething and gnashing
of the oppressed leads to the trashing
of monument to those held dear
in eruptions of violent clashing?
The answers, my friends, are clear.
Let’s open our ears and try to hear
the history of brutal oppression
that cause so many to live in fear.
Since if we can’t learn this lesson
we’ll lose more than an election!
Folks, it’s high time to reject
this notion that every hero warrants beatification!
This disease leaves wounds,
rivers both wide and deep.
Too deep for fording
and much too wide for bridges,
so we build ferries
and brave treacherous waters,
holding connections
to our loved ones long estranged
by these savage waters wide.
Should I never hear,
Again, the words, sham or scheme,
Their absence I, shall not miss.
With your every stride
Fallen leaves and memories
Fragment into mulch.
You think yourself bold,
Decisive man of action:
Midas of decay;
Modern day Nero:
Tweeting while Rome succumbs
To internal flames.
Survey these ashes
Stark remains of the fury
From your careless match.
Where Colossus stood
Only dust and rubble stir
In warm autumn breeze
And yet:
Despite your chaos,
Slender verdant tendrils grow
Rooting your ruins
Proving to you, Wretched Waste,
That even now, hope remains.
Seems, now, the problem’s
not guns but video games
and not Dayton… Toledo?
Not to your vile
nature nor to your greedy
ways do I owe my sorrow.
~
I revolt myself,
every time I wish you ill,
yet I can’t refrain.
Will, wit, and wisdom:
often all that stands between
fools and excoriation.
Listen Up, you grey old goat!
Your racist ways are history.
Does that hate not sere your throat?
That grossly overt bigotry
never fails to offend
younger,
compassionate,
thoughtful men.
But since we’re here within this lodge,
I’ll try to muster up some grace,
abide the precepts of wiser men
and curb my urge to pulp your face.
I’ll maintain regard unconditional
despite your beliefs, so unlovable.
What Narcissism!
Forgetting how to control
both temper and car,
he lays heavy on his horn
trying, vainly, to control
actions of other drivers.