'Twas The Night Before Elections

'Twas the Night Before Elections (With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore) 'Twas the night before Elections, when all throughout the land Not a creature was comforted, not even second-hand The special votes were cast, the first crosses laid In hope that each cross a difference has made; The faithful assured all smug in their belief Visions of good governance bolstering relief And Helen with her book, CR with his promise Convinced that the answer without them remiss; While the world of media reveals such racist clatter It's obvious that to most Black Lives don't matter. Search online and off to find how it's wrong Find the same lyric, the same sad, old song The lack o'er the land of those long-persecuted Giving lustre to that owned and so constituted The why that to my wondering mind should appear These neighbourhoods of despair, these communities of fear With an agenda meant to subjugate Something that can take a while to appreciate More insidious than snakes the levels came Egged on, spurred on, called by their name; `Now DISREGARD! now, RACISM! now WHITE SUPREMACY! On, DISDAIN! on DENIAL! on, LIE and FALLACY! Crack the whip, let the hammer fall! Then away! away! as if it's not you at all! As random thoughts before rank propaganda fly When they meet in opposition, earth versus sky So disturbed your thoughts and mind By narrative and fable entwined The banging and knocking from so often before From the far-too familiar wolf at the door That leaves you in a spin, no succour found At home and house both built on shaky ground Emblazoned with statistics, records proven Of nothing signifying meaning beyond to govern And the benefit and purpose of that Respite for those who can afford the fat The reality a beer ad, an infomercial, a happy place With flowers and fruit and decored lace The jingle a jukebox's melody That makes of sentiment a parody The priv'leged justified and held tight Their concern and their care held to be right All with a turned-away inability to face The consequences in this handicapped place The promise of Elections, marked 'Imperative' on the shelf The constant reminder that the group supercedes the self A wave of a finger, the shake of a head Belying how much there is to still dread; No explanation for what fails and do not work Questioned only by the 'ignorant jerk' The assumption that unless they propose Criticism comes from those talking through their nose But 'informed', and enlightened, anticipating the whistle Ready to be bounced about like the down of a thistle And waiting to survive this dark night That dawns with the promise of Elections' wan light SP