Our Day

Our Day

A fading chance, their failing dance,

Ritual held over from imperfect past.

Sword held high, blinding clouded eye,

Opposing a future arrived at last.

Ragged remnants of imagined glory unlived,

Marching in lockstep to defeat the specter,

Of notionate monstrous elector,

Of dying philosophy, they the protector.

Ear deafened by politician and priest,

Constantly informing whom to like least.

Enemy constructed of wind and mirror on the increase,

Succumbed they are to spoken disease.

Armed and arming: oligarchy’s lance,

A rabbled army for high finance,

Willing to fight with ne’er the chance,

To see their own ethereal fortune advance.

Blinded they are by the fogs and mist

Of remote rulers making unfaithful tryst

Wielded as a blinded, blunt, and bloodied fist,

To pound down those that would resist.

Prided now they are of disinformation,

Argument unreasoned in negation,

They have purchased deluded salvation,

Paid for in subjugated, compelled nation.

These would take freedom by the throat,

And in their subservience gloat,

But we have our own weapon and please take note:

This is OUR day,

Get out and vote!

Cliff Lake10/25/2022

CliffSongs