Something in the Air

The odor of decay is heavy in the air. Though we still have
A government, it suffers from paralysis. The fascists own
The countryside, enslaving women, heaping dirt upon those
Who aren't able to conform to their ideals of Christian
Whiteness. We sink deeper into debt, though not
To care for our own needy. We buy weapons for ourselves,
And for others, tools with which we attempt to keep our
Fingers wrapped around the world's throat, but our grip
Is growing weak. Everywhere among the fascists, empty
Storefronts harbor addicts. Every day, a few will die,
As do neglected mothers and their babies. All these dead
And dying, all the once-grand institutions, unmaintained,
Neglected hulks, contribute to the nauseating odor
Of decay.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2023-11-08 at 16:40

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Things fall apart. The Center cannot hold.

Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Dear Lawrence, your poem speaks for many Western tongues. Not all of course in the strangling position of yours, but when they aren't in that position then they are mirroring with intent. It is a sad state of affairs. But this is a reflective poem of great societal importance in this day and age.
Blessings, Allen