Stolid of Heart

As new leadership surges forward,

the political battlefield strewn with threadbare armament,

the White House puppet master raises his iron fist of sophistry,

continuing to parade stolen words of innocent children’s vocabulary,

as he hovers over any number of red buttons.

Heartless fault finding

waits for another dawn,

another cover of cloud,

another day for sacrificial dualism of

altruistic lies and solipsistic conceit.

This Neanderthal of mind

will charge again on the tomorrows to come,

challenging massive indomitable resolve to resuscitate a system,

an arterial bastion of energy flow determined to nourish

the blood of moral consciousness.

And puppet master and all his marionettes will find that we—

who know your poisons of deceit seeking cover

beneath the twisted festoons of clogged veins—

will rise up ready to hold firm the defibrillation of a populous,

against whom you would condemn to

reliance on life support existence beneath the strings.

Yes…

You of phlegmatic heart

must once again consider

the strength of a people's

resolve to do the right thing,

even as you would continue your demagoguery

and destroy human dignity for the sake

of a few cheers from engorged crony dictatorship.

Yes…

We need to change Washington.

But, even after cutting the strings,

will hope and trust be enough?