TUESDAY THOUGHTS: POETRY PROMPT —STATE OF AFFAIRS

Who they rush to help, and who they don’t, speaks volumes 

They find time, resources; know which strings to pull

Why the claims of lack, where things are truly dire?

Why the hurry to fill hands already full?

There’s a payoff hiding below the hypocrisy 

Something for nothing, in some cases, won’t apply

When we see what seems to be insanely baffling 

We’ve only to observe the hue of player’s eyes

What’s fair, and right, and righteous, gets a little hazy

Why some things seem instant and easy’s, based on lies

It’s so much deeper than just playing in folk’s faces

Bigots and thieves are real, and bred— it’s no surprise 

There is an evil notion fueled by the fearful 

Who’ve been taught, all their lives, that all belongs to them

That others are merely here to serve and praise them

That they can have, and take, and destroy on a whim

And when they need help, those who they oppressed, should aid them

Step aside, give up their seats, move back in line

Give up their land, their homes, names, languages, and stories

Forget the past, and pretend everything is fine.

But they forget that wherever they may go

With their arrogance and entitlement in tow

Their acts, misdeeds, and unclean hands are ever showing

As well as history, they hope that no one knows

Funny, they never see how their own actions hurt them

Or how a legacy of evil wounds their souls

And scars their hearts and minds, and plunges them in madness

That forms the premise of every story told—

Of how they, so consumed with hatred, never prosper

Never benefit from all they snatched and stole

Never satisfied, unless they’re causing suffering 

Foolishly smirking, as their heinous schemes unfold 

The goal, is to leave you so angry and discouraged

So exhausted from the fight to make things right

So disheartened that those who could stop it, do nothing

So scared and anxious, that you cannot sleep at night

So preoccupied with what’s wrong over here

So deeply troubled by what’s happening over there

That you throw up your hands; march wildly to the chaos

And place yourself squarely in their preset cross-hairs 

But, don’t you fret, nor take the bait, you just keep dancing

This is a battle that has never been your own

No matter what they do, you know a day is coming

When the truth of every shady deal is shown

And they can laugh, now, but they will not escape  judgement 

Of how they trampled over, so-called, least of men

To heap what wasn’t theirs upon their kindred scoundrels

While making enemies of those who called them friends

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