political poem
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Consecrate wine into his blood Then pour it on your hands. Burn the bread that is his flesh And mix the ashes with stained sand. Nail the commandments to the cross With thorns pulled from his crown. Then pray to the God you desecrate And claim you love him now. You would crucify your God
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I’m not the neighbor Mr. Rogers knew I could be When I refuse to grieve For a man who openly mocked empathy. A man who reduced lives to a price To be paid for his right to bear arms. “To be a neighbor”, Rogers taught us, Is to forgive and be kind. But I can’t
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The war machine is gearing up turning soldiers into dollars. Lives are cheap in the land of the free, and politicians love good martyrs. Invasions cost the price of boots and blood on foreign soil. What are soldiers’ lives and civilian deaths when it comes to premium oil? They sell our souls to invest in
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First they came for the hungry; I said nothing, for I had meat. Then they came for the thirsty; I said nothing, for I had drink. Then they came for the stranger; I said nothing, for we didn’t meet. Then they came for the sick and imprisoned; I said nothing, for I walked free. I
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They gave out bread and circuses As Rome was burning down. Now Nero’s in the White House Wearing a gilded crown. They gave us tariffs and TikTok Instead of jobs and eggs. Now Nero’s out playing golf And freezing federal aide. They’ll serve us dreams and promises, As they put the country up for sale.
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Saving pennies will add up If given enough time, But hard earned penies don’t bring luck When 2 cents cost a dime. While we’re all pinching pennies In order to survive, Billionaires spend millions To buy and sell our lives.
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Ignorance is violence Silence is a crime. When there’s injustice in the streets It’s cruel to close your eyes. Ignorance is violence When information’s free. And silence is complicity While we still have free speech. Ignorance is violence And silence is a choice. Speak out against oppression now Before it steals your voice.
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History doesn’t repeat But it does rhyme. What’s happened before Will echo in time. If you don’t study history You may fail to take Important lessons away from the past’s mistakes. But I don’t need to know history To see, the familiar road where this path leads Into another great tragedy.
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The morning of the death of democracy, Fresh snow glowed on the mountain tops. The sun rose bright in a pastel sky As birds and geese flew peacefully by, The beautiful day was a cruelly-felt lie– A mockery of our mourning. On the morning of the death of democracy, Heaven and Earth kept on turning.
Bringing Mae Flowers 