I should be more trusting
They said too morose so
Take one in the morning
And one before the bed

It comes out of this square
And it surely doesn't want
Me, him, they. I'm imagining
The unbridled hatred

The reenactment of shame
The checkpoints of fame
The place of birth circled
Then stamped in bright red

Outside, armored police vans
Are they in all black yet?
Patting down young men
If a bit accented

Every day something mean
By law this way comes
By dark money penned, yet
Democratically elected

I'm delighted I'm too high
That I'm not falling for
The greater good by all means
Or the lesser of the wicked

As the sphere turns right
At the distance of a thought
To the end of the line
Its gold dripping lead.


Jam24

Last poem of 2024, good year compared to the next few. Happy New Year to you all!