After The Parade

Slogans are made

With thoughts lofty and sublime

For a better fate.

On the marching date,

Promises are vocal, coverage, prime.

And after the parade?

The Machinery of grime,

Of the loud Power and State

Again rears out of the gate

And revert to charades and pantomime.

The euphoria begins to fade.

The establishment of slime,

Perpetuates the system of hate,

And persecutions' sad spate

Resumes, in a return to a hopeless clime

Of abuse, with gun and blade.

During peace after wartime

Despite Turing's enigmatic contributions of late

The Machinery ingrate

Prosecuted with their heartless paradigm.

Who is the real renegade?

"We've come a long way," this time

Again the Machinery would say to quell and abate,

While conspiring to derate, denigrate, discriminate.

The Machinery thinks being minority is crime.

So, after the parade,

There seems a higher mountain to climb.

The Machinery will not sate

Until we regress to The Vulgate

And adopt the views of a prehistoric time.

How can I not be dismayed?