Thirteen cards has a quarter deck made of four suits.
Diamonds, spades, hearts, and clubs form a motley wardrobe
That will integrate hate into our poker game.
Straighter faces, though evil, appear to be tame.
History of our ugliness we fear to probe.
We now see reemergence of our founding roots.

Two of four suits are black, and the others are red.
Private checkerboard patterns persist in our minds
Through the heart’s misperception of how things should be.
Violent is the behavior of those who aren’t free
From their own inner demons and hurts of all kinds.
One who thinks of the noose wishes some black one dead.

Every suit has its ‘face’ cards. The ones at the top
Of societal structure take pride in great wealth
While the numbered remainder remain unfulfilled
And the worst in the deck are the faceless unskilled
Who will die before others because of ill health.
Money placates the pain, but it can’t make it stop.

Thirteen colonies became the United States.
Numbers are of significance when hands are dealt
In the dark of deception to keep others bound
By the systems of terror. How bitter the sound
Of the loud mental chanting that hits below belt.
Every nation shows off through the people it hates.