Bloated Wolves

So much gets left unsaid

reserved for the journal

in my head, not out loud

—

pushed down, right down

until it burns

through my heart

but for today

the bile is rising

-

take sides—

when a conflict means

death and destruction

to the innocents

on all sides

-

why choose a side

in a war that chose

its casualties long ago?

who lives and who dies—

all for a line drawn in blood

by dead men

-

why can't we just be

against the war

against the fighting

-

laughing at the demagogue

who's never known—accountability or consequence

who has spent a lifetime

dodging human kindness

and seeing life through

the haze of ego—

behind gilded ignorance

delusion's blurred glare

-

and once in power

we act surprised and horrified?

why?

-

the writing was on the wall

long before the ballots

were counted and verified

bloated wolves dressed as wolves

—

So much gets left unsaid

reserved for the journal

in my head, not out loud

—

the rich build rockets

the poor build tents

those in power, have it easy

-

"oh, the work they do is stressful?"

"oh, really?"

-

What about the millions

starving, homeless, broken, disenfranchised

with no direction home

complete unknowns

left in the trash

-

as the smokescreen rises

the real issues choked out

by endless streams of inanity

-

All these things I keep to myself

in fear of stoking the wrong fire

in order to reserve a little respect

for what?

-

Respect is earned, unlike the positions

of so many, bankrolled by their problematic

heritage, genetic pool, monied backgrounds

-

Gender, race, sex,

inequality, the agenda disgrace

-

Since when did shouting

become truth?

Since when did a document

drown out common decency?

Since when did power need

a reason or a season?

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: Considered against publishing this. Then published it anyway.

Here's other stuff.