At The Whim

I lost four co-workers the other day

Distant voices from the computer

Phantoms I’ll never get to know

I wait for the chainsaws next bloody cut

——-

Growing tired of being at the whim

Of nature and rich assholes

With no FEMA for the latter

Soon none for the former

———

Prancing nightmares selling dreams

Of glory days gilded in white gold

Along with brand name bootstraps

The rich pay to have pulled up

———

The raging id of democracy

Voted for an all you can eat buffet

To feed these rapacious egos

Hope they aren’t surprised to end up on the menu

———

Black holes where hearts and eyes should be

They take and take until all that’s left

Empty pens and nothing to write

Because they’ve devoured the truth

———-

In gluttonous ecstasy,

They sit on thrones of gnawed hope

And our hollowed out bones

Making America great for them

——

But I’m waiting

Out of stubbornness and battered hope

That the people I serve, those who love and those who hate me

Will recognize my value, even if just as a person

—-

And so, I remain at the whim

Of nature, rich assholes

And a tiny seed of hope

Planted in a fallow field