POEM: The Choice Was Clear
The choice was clear:
Hope versus fear.
And I’m still shedding tears
(as the wrong people cheer).
Which maybe sounds too “them and us”,
For those of you feeling conscientious
About desperately finding some silver lining
In the clouds of this apocalyptic end-timing.
But right now I’m feeling nothing but hostile,
And it really will take me a very long while
Not to see undeniable division
Between how different people came to their decision.
Because there are consequences to their crosses,
And the inevitable life losses,
That their quivering hands delivered
As their empathy lay withered.
Pretending somehow they didn’t know
Why the lines for food banks grow
So many families unable to eat,
Many more sleeping out on the street,
Communities lying ravaged
As their services have been savaged,
By a rapacious drive for profit
With no one brave enough to stop it.
Deregulation, welfare cuts
Dead in a ditch, no ifs, ands or buts
Get Brexit done at any cost
It doesn’t matter what we lost.
Immigrants once more scapegoated
To justify the way we voted
Wrapped in a flag of sovereignty
And lofty dreams of being free
They sold the future of the many
So the few could make more pennies.
As the discourse loses root
From anything resembling truth
Outright fraud will get rewarded
Verbal bullying applauded
Rights and protections now eroded
Another dog whistle encoded
I cannot meet my neighbours eyes
Nor can I say I’m that surprised
Only that I’m disappointed
With the liar they’ve appointed
Substance swapped for sloganeering
The clueless crowds continue cheering
I cannot stand a thing I’m hearing
As the ship of state is steering
Towards an iceberg we all see
But dismiss as fantasy
A fake news conspiracy
Our unsinkable economy
Meanwhile some of us can’t sleep
Because the worry’s gnawing deep
Of when our country lost its way?
And if we’ll ever find our place
And feel again like we belong
When so many are so wrong?
And fat, fingered, base and greedy
The many sacrificed the needy
So the few could keep their money
Like flies to shit-smeared honey
Feet stuck in their mistake
It starts to dawn, but far too late
That they’ve sabotaged their fate
As they slowly suffocate
Beneath the weight of propaganda
Which wove gold from shards of slander
The winning strategy
Was to repeat it frequently
And add some false equivalency
Until anyone can see
Unless, of course, they are insane
That all politicians are the same
Even when they’re clearly not
And it’s a genuine choice we’ve got
Because the choice it was so clear
A vote for hope or one for fear
And we chose poorly in a landslide
As some swam against this harsh tide
Impossible to stop the torrent
Of the selfish and abhorrent
Drowning as it overcame me
Election night forever stained me
Crying out into the dark
It broke my misanthropic heart
And I picked up my poet’s pen,
Without country yet again,
Wiped my eyes and took a breath;
And came to terms with culture’s death.