Verses on a White Man Failing Upward (November 8, 2024)

The Occupier, 2025, colored Sharpies and Pilot pen on paper, 9” x 7.5”

Verses on a White Man Failing Upward (November 8, 2024)

You can’t push a rainbow

into a closet.

Or stuff the eternal feminine 

in a powder box.

You can’t exile those who

love their home more than you.

Or declare the old and ill

less deserving.

Oh, you can try 

all this and you

might succeed.

But your victory is Pyrrhic

and all you’ve done

will go to seed.

Lock me up, send

send me into exile.

Murder daughters,

wives, sisters

because you and your

wretched cabal value

lives unborn (that you’ll 

abandon when they are.)

You won on gas (and petroleum)

and insisting you’d 

lower prices.

You’ll expel the undesirables

and vermin - as you call them - 

like lice.

You’ll go after the enemy within:

all who oppose you.

Bring it, braggart.

We are legion.

How will you do it?

Soviet-style promises

for neighbor to 

snitch on neighbor? 

Midnight home invasions?

Parents ripped away from children, 

hooded, gagged, and disappeared

for good (whose good)?

Will you force those to 

bend the knee who

aren’t grateful enough?

Oh, it’s not just you, is it?

“You” are myriad; toadies,

fixers, sycophants.

“You” are manipulators of 

the frustrated masses

molded easily to be

your slaves,

your ultimate dupes.

They’ll do the job for you.

January 6th was a test run.

If you called for a Purge Night, 

I wouldn’t be surprised.

Enough words wasted

on you and your lot.

At least, all this has proven 

how deep the rot

really is, how pervasive.

This is what this country is.

To be born and with fear and hated.

The more they trump up, puff, and preen,

the deeper and wider

the yellow is seen.