Death Of The Party

Perverse Entertainment

Human drama unfolds as expected these days.
One need not own a TV to sense what is news.
Any person of color can feel the outrage
Of the animal instinct. Upon the world stage
The racist body politic echoes its views
Of righteous indignation and will to abrase.

A sedate subtle simmering has not its peak.
A political time bomb is due to go off
Yet it can’t be determined when it will explode.
I prepare my strange heart for the next episode.
Deep dark damaging hatred is noting to scoff.
Sanity within safety is all that I seek.

My last visit to my bank was just such a test.
The Caucasian bank teller did ask me if I
Added all of the numbers up all on my own
But I chose to ignore her despicable tone
Lest a knee to the neck be my fate if I try
To respond as appropriate. How is this best?

I live not in a nation where I can feel safe
Let alone feel some ownership of my homeland.
Even though proper people now have taken charge
Civil war is a chronic event by and large.
The nature of the hatred I can’t understand.
All I know is I’m feeling much more like a waif.

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