Not sure what to do,
Knowing that it could
Be a catalyst for all
Manner of suffering but
Also morbidly curious.
As usual, an inner struggle
Ensues between giving the
Benefit of the doubt,
Believing in redemption, or
Realizing that some things are
Truly better left unexamined.
Even the best intentions often
Do not turn out well
Because they never have before
And nothing has transpired
To make this time any different.
She worries about
Absolutely everything;
Wreathed in a
Cloud of trepidation,
Myriad menaces,
Nothing safe,
Constant vigilance against
Threats real and fabricated,
She bequeaths all this
Wonderfulness to her children.
I remember the moment he
Referred to me as a competitor,
Collaboration pettily smashed
Into a million jagged shards.
Inflated ego,
Simmering insecurity,
Infirm sense of self.
Rapacious hunger for
Power, prestige, position,
Civility – camaraderie – a casualty.
Close the gates, boil the oil,
Needless battle begun.
No words exchanged
Where normally there
Would be many.
An empty space,
A house razed,
Missing.
This is the same
Place where they
Laughed together.
Sitting around
Talking about nothing
In particular,
They notice that
They’re physically
Stronger than them;
That they can impose
Their will through
Force rather than
Negotiation or
Compromise.
They get to work
Creating the edifices
Of submission and
Control; shameless
Institutions designed
To maintain the
Imbalance of power.
Multi-tentacled monster,
Insatiable appetite for
Culpatory knowledge.
Pursue with great vigor,
Upend life,
Intimidate with threats of
Dire consequences,
Frame as a renegade
Divulger of secrets,
A craven menace.
Nothing stops the
Gurgling heart of
Fear-riddled sickness
Zealously guarding
Improprieties.
Her blank, lifeless eyes
Betray a dearth of feeling,
Loss of innocence,
Humanity torn from heart.
She follows whatever they say
With a confidence that only
Comes from the total
Sublimation of self.
Inside her, a muffled voice
Reminds that there
Always is another path,
Courageous, resplendent.
Dreams eclipsed,
Traditional currents
Scrubbing everything a
Pale shade of average.
Arms resting on the
Windowsill, she sees
Far-away places where
Birds fly freely.
The room was
Buzzing with energy,
People smiling and
Laughing, sharing
Anecdotes, exchanging
Business cards,
Having a cocktail or two.
He stood in the
Middle of the action,
Pretending to be
Part of it.
Entrusted with the
Power of the pen,
He routinely, passionately
Persecutes the poor and
Disenfranchised, focusing
With white-hot, laser-like
Intensity on the innate
Shortcomings of the indigent,
Emphatically insisting that
These things must be pointed out;
A sentinel of truth and justice
Conveniently overlooking the
Trespasses of the group
He identifies with,
Protecting the perpetrators.