The Day After Roe Fell

– June 23, 2022

No mail today; it’s an unofficial holiday.
Our master’s heart is flying,
as we hear the fireworks, decrying.
At least the weeds I tried to kill are dying,
even as our politicians all are lying,
while mothers stuck with children crying,
our master’s endless vying to punish them for trying,
unifying us against each other,
as politely we’re applying our own noose,
as if to slow the obtuse misery he’s so generously supplying,
under pretense of defiling some grand “American Way.”

It’s like a tragic play,
denying us our rights,
the tireless parading of disqualifying spites,
each cutting deeper than the next.
So make sure your preachifying text is Christian.
And surely don’t forget to squeeze your gay sex in
while it’s still gratifying
because tomorrow, it’s all for naught.
So don’t you get caught, too,
because the master’s into spying on you.

There really is no underlying need he can’t supplant,
with his nazifying hate,
solidifying his control,
purifying our soul,
our feeble fate,
the purifying of our soul,
his vengeance served upon a plastic plate.
You may notice there’s no malice in his gait,
no anger in his hate.
It masquerades quite slyly as his love for unborn babes
– heaven help those transmogrifying naves when trying and applying once they’re born.
The iconic wolf in sheep’s attire, tattered, torn,
yet all the more convincing, terrifying
when the Alligator’s voice, like fire, is quivering and crying.

But the long game here is this – forgive me, now I’m speechifying:
we have long since given up our right of self-determination – and I’m not lying.
He’s got us lined up by the balls, single filing and complying
with his perverted way of codifying “liberty.”
He has made our comfort and convenience our new God,
while he is smiling and supplying us
with ever cheaper, faster, better goods,
and an infinite array of villains and idols,
all the while tugging at our bridals.

At least our Jesus doesn’t tease us
and our iPhones don’t displease us.
We’re still amplifying how He gave his love for us, undying.
And for what?
So we could live some theocratic fantasy,
blistered only by one terrifying truth:
that we are hostage to a vague foreboding feeling of discontentedness,
which we stoically disguise as self-denying.

Our master has us deifying greed, just as he does.
Difference is his greed’s one sided.
Still he has us dancing round, like Cheetahs,
running ragged like a steed with blinders on,
vilifying and attacking one another,
while our self-restraining manner deflects us from the real need.
We stand by watching,
crucifying truth with our calcifying silence.

Our bread is buttered.
Without freedom we are dead.

Meanwhile, we are led
in a dulcifying prayer
that’s being muttered in a mortifying, inobtrusive way
within our master’s inner church,
but spoken ever bolder, day by day:

“Oh God, please don’t wake us from our stupefying bliss,
from our infinite self-centeredness!
You say we are a team,
And Your way is in our best self-interest and convenience.
So please accept our pacifying acquiescence.
And anyone who interferes with that, we we smote them,
as says the word of the Lord, who wrote them.
Cheap prices on all thy goods and all thy services we seek
and of course, prosperity for us, the meek.
For this is no time for your people to be weak.
Onward Christian Soldiers!
Remove those pesky boulders.
And at the first sign of inflation
or anything that might disturb our perfect incantation.

We’re a Christian nation, that’s the ticket.
So in God we trust,
but with our guns we picket.
commodifying our devotion as we go.
And if you don’t like it, you can stick it.
Oh dear Lord, please make it so.
We don’t care about your rights!
Not if they undermine our sacred flights,
our covenant bestowed by our white male God.
That’s right I said white,
you wanna fight?

Dare let no man trod.
We know that every soul has its price,
as does every vice afford.
God, being in the right is nice.
It is our holy cause that justifies our sword.
After all, you called us worthy, Lord.
Because though sinners,
we are your chosen, your adored.
So chant it with me now, dear friends.
chant it loud and clear with me,
let it rise up like a weather balloon,
until He comes again and takes us up with Him, real soon:


Cuz in His house are many Manchins.
And those who are not with us, they are lost.
We ask this now at any cost,

And in the silence after, we are sighing,
“Is this really why our country’s dying?”

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