Politics and Free Verse
Here, Lies, the Profit
His is a faction under gawd
Embroidery mars each brow with a brim creased to white mantra like a seal bent, reddened beyond blue.
Begotten, not made great, an eagle decays with the shroud of Turin, olive branch and arrows one in being, a lesser Fuhrer, as he flails allegation toward activists, sailors, nations with a stone rolled free from the promised wall towering in a language lost to children bordered within a cage not suited for manger nor hideout under oval office while the hatted chant the year.
Resurrection woke is blind of faith when woke means a photo-op planked in both eyes when one walks upon walkers — those moved to protest in distance born of peace.
He ordered them dispersed, flailed with gas and pepper, trumped from the house of the people, for a pose before a church with the Bible clamped upended.
Indivisible, divided with pandemic, denial made great to make light of black lives united by a fall under weight no knee should bear, lies a president hyped on self-crucifixion burdened with neither cross nor cure in a movement he lauds all his own so he may deny on the third day that he rose from a bunker.
His is a faction under gawd lost to fact unmasked in ribald of any fellow Judas for worship and walls not held with Babel, charred by Maillard reaction when flesh is seared into a flag inlaid with thorns for stars, under MAGA not INRI at the feat of the profit.
Inspired by the writings of James Knight, this poem is dedicated to those who are woke and those who are waking. Stand up or sit down, do it loudly or silently, but, I beg you, SPEAK OUT against injustice and corruption.
If you’d like to read more activism in free verse by Dionne Charlet, please click on the link below: