“Insurrection Rejection”

c.2020 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(1-21)

Prancing with the proles

Fire extinguishers and flag poles

Weapons fly

Tear gas in the sky

Ceremonial horns

The people warned

“March and fight! 

Trial by combat, here tonight!”

Howlers in the halls

With zip-ties and bowling balls

QAnon Quakers

Proud Boys and Oath Takers

Confederate, lest we forget

A nation in peril

Heavy hearts grow full

With love of the Orange Man

His crazy coif and spray-on tan

“Mask up, you say?

The China Virus will go away!”

Like a snack for Scooby Doo

“Don’t worry, it’s just the flu!”

Let the powerful hear alternative truth

There’s blood and shit

On the heel of my shoe

Marching from room to room

While TV cameras document the doom

Legislators - see you later!

Shaken, not stirred

Electoral College, disturbed

A process, deterred

For a moment, deferred

Till the reckoning

Tomorrow morning

When the smoke has cleared

And the John Birch Society

Bows out, rather impolitely

Banners in the breeze

In body armor and combat boots

Up to their knees

Only one way to go

After this quid-pro-quo

Impeachment 2.0

Put those Klan robes far out of reach

For those standing in the breach

Helping their hero

Still grappling with defeat

Dissing doctors, ingesting bleach

Got some bold lessons to teach

Wield the spanner

Crib notes in the daily planner

Spin the spiel

Like a Roulette Wheel

The Wages of Sin

Growing pale and thin

Like a kick in the shin

From these awful misdeeds

To soaring poetry

In only a couple of weeks

Amanda Gorman speaks

At the Capitol dome

Liberty a-flourishing

Like sturdy strands of brome

Welcome home

This nation, resilient

Ever endures each moment

From World War

To conflict on the Senate floor

Rabble-rousers at the door

The faint-hearted have now departed

But the flame that a revolution started

So long ago

Flickers yet in the hearts

Of those seeking to light the dark

With wise words and the will to embark

Upon a journey, grand

To take up the task

“What can I do?”

We ask

To strike up the band

“This land is your land”

Woody Guthrie is not dead

He speaks still to those who dream

With his minimalist machine

Braced wood and six steel strings

Earthy tones

Old songs strummed by older bones

Carry me home

From the Pacific coast

To the tip of Maine

This nation remains

No need to explain

A patriot prayer offers protection

It slays all manner of insurrection

Today, tomorrow, and the rest

Lady Liberty has passed her test

A breath of pride swells my chest

No mere cult of personality

Can bend her low

Beneath defeat

Her torch held high

Against the sky

America, America

Flawed and fickle

Sometimes lost in the riddle

Yet ever back to the middle

By grace, rescued

By God, saved from rubes

Who last only for a season

Who disappoint daughters and sons

With self-important lore

Of what went before

What shines from shore to shore

Is a grand union

A grand mission, to chase the sun

In its arc over the continent 

Our nation, to represent

Whole, not divided

By this cause, united

Red, white, and blue

One purpose, one truth

In the mirror, my neighbor

I see you

Written on my iPhone SE