At the same time
He discriminates
Against others,
He reasserts his
Belief that he
Is being
Discriminated against
And that his already
Dominant group
Should stand up
For itself against
The multihued infidels
Who are uppity
Enough to question
Their place.
Without flinching,
They authorize
Savage torment,
Projecting their fears
And desperate need for
Power and control onto
Their captive targets.
Not a moment’s reflection
Or second thought –
Subconscious reaction arising
From too many years of
Patriarchal indoctrination and
Forced obedience,
Profoundly ordinary –
Distressingly banal,
Merciless,
Just following orders.
Arising each day
In an obscene
Fantasy world
Where brutalizing
Another human being
Is commonplace.
Subservient to fear,
Sickly minds
Play sordid games,
Scorning, ridiculing,
Ignoring humanity,
Lecherous ritual.
He sleeps well
At night knowing
That rivers of
Money are flowing
Into his already
Bloated coffers
While his workers
Struggle with
Whether they should
Pay the electric bill
Or put food on
The table.
He sits livid
In his armchair,
Staring at the TV,
Where people are
In the streets,
Holding signs,
Chanting slogans that make
No sense to him.
He mutters something
About ingrates
With no right to
Protest against a
Good man just doing
His job, and what about
What those people do
To one another.
They’ll fight
Tooth and nail
To give tax breaks
To their cronies –
The one percent –
Who already own
Most of everything
But still demand more.
They won’t do a
Thing to help
The real people
Doing the actual work,
Deluge up economics.
A promise of a gift
Made in confidence.
She’s never told anyone
About it and has
Never seen it
Become reality.
Fading away into
Memory,
Immaterial,
A gesture lost to time,
Obscured by
Secrecy.
Once in a while
She wonders
What it all meant
And whether it
Ever even
Existed.
Successive
Waves
Have all
Encountered
The same
Alarmed cries
About how
The beach
Will never
Be the same.
Well-scrubbed children,
In the latest fashions,
Play without a care,
Eagerly returning to
Their desks to learn about
All the wonders the
World offers them.
Children in hand-me-downs
Selected from a pile
In the corner of the room,
Run around in a bare
Playground, going back
Inside to share
Outdated books.
Keep quiet.
Don’t you know that
We’ve always done it
This way and we don’t
Even whisper about any
Other options.
Change is not something
Contemplated often in
These circles, if ever,
Just the same old
Boring perpetuation of
Everything that came before,
Without any thought to
Improving any of it,
The same results
Choking off all hope.