America is in a bad way. Ravaged by The Plague, with the number of deaths from Covid predicted to reach up to 1/2 a million souls next month and on the brink, it seems, of a Civil War.
Trump’s disingenuous final speech can be summed up in 7 words : No regrets and this is not over. Ominous, considering the ugly insurrection he instigated at the US Capitol just over a week ago.
Now, what? We hold out breath and wait, with Washington DC turned into a battleground, America is afraid of herself.
Tonight, tonight around 15 poets will reading at 7 pm CST: https://zoom.us/j/99184284932?pwd=eGNKOGQ3T0plWTcwNWFGN3Bqd2Q0dz09 inaugural poems written as a kind of artivism (art+activism). Below, is my poem for this noble initiative. Perhaps, I see you there?
Inaugural Directive
Do not dare celebrate
what is hardly victory―
note Damocles’ sword, overhead
Now, is time for modesty
slender expectations
humble utterances
No more talk of audacity
whether of hope or change
after the promises betrayed
Beware all eloquence
and, equally, its opposite―
they lead to one another
American exceptionalism is a lie
America will never be great, again
at the expense of others
After the vulgar braggadocio
and monstrous fear unleashed
now, is time for humility
Crawl to the lectern
head hanging in shame
that it’s come to this
Raise your downcast eyes
for a somber moment
in mouthless contrition
Should you see fit
to speak, keep it brief
only say, Thank you
Then, for four long years
work hard to be worthy
of such grave privilege.
