By T. A. Fry
We came by way of insanity and politely left out the back via denial.
Didn’t there used to be more razzle-dazzle in the conviction of a gross
misdemeanor? Who said crime doesn’t pay?
Freely available criminal records on the internet might break
a lesser man. My parole officer says I am incorrigible. I told her
it’s sweet of her to say so, but in reality there’s no hope. I’’ll show up
eventually on time and with matching socks.
The truth is I’m broke, my pension fund raided by the company’s top lawyer.
The shyster had been embezzling for years in search of redemption
on account of all the dead bees. It pains me to read to him
in prison from Leviticus.
Don’t ask me to apologize for my muddled opacity. I won’t proffer
even a hint as to what any of it means as a way to suggest
I had a grand plan. Accept confusion as a merit badge
of being an American male.
Did you know there is a computer algorithm that will censor your
Craigslist ad in search of true love if you include a reference
to Nostradamus? But you can brag about your cock all day long.
Who started this nonsense anyways? So called democratic elections for
Presidents via the electoral college are only for the damn fools
among us who still believe that it makes a difference
on the direction of the Supreme Court.
We’re all condemned. Look to the horizon. Our crosses await….
No greater satisfaction than he who has the strength
to nail one of his own wrists to his crucifix.
I wrote this so long ago, it doesn’t even feel like my writing anymore when I read it. I wrote it before my sonnet obsession had blossomed. I couldn’t write in that style again, even if I tried. I wrote this in early 2015, just as the election cycle was starting and a Trump presidency seemed so far fetched that smug so called “intellectual” liberals like myself thought it was an impossibility. What a fool I was. I look at this poem today and realize my subconscious knew exactly what was going to happen. Not that Minnesotans could have done anything differently, we voted our conscience for Clinton and it didn’t matter. My mental health requires I ignore everything that comes out of Trump’s mouth these days.
If Easter is a time of rebirth and forgiveness, then let us forgive. Forgive ourselves for letting the blindness of good intentions get in the way of good leadership. The problem with partisan politics is both sides believe they are right. Both sides believe they are on the moral high ground. But if Easter is about a God of forgiveness, then let us forgive everyone and find common interests to serve the needs of the many and check the power of the few until we put health and prosperity back as a basic fundamental right in its proper place. Or start wrestling with the very real prospect that this was always a false narrative we told ourselves to feel good about our own prosperity. Maybe its time to deal with the underlying discrimination that has created the inequality we now find ourselves living, in our cities, in our nation and on this planet.