Friday Poem

July 4th, 2025

Today is not a day for celebration.
Forget the fireworks.

To march down the center of Main
in party clothes under a soiled banner
singing “Joy To The World” would be
like showing up at a funeral
dressed to kill while warbling
a heavy-metal version of
Happy Days Are Here Again.

The burying of the Constitution
being nigh: the lights of the Capital
flickering out from the surge of
dark energy generated at a
hate-mill in the middle finger
of Florida, the red plow of a
tsunami of ignorance inundating
campuses of education, leveling
the hope of the young to be spared
from the likes of Genghis Khans,

This is not a time to party unless
you are in the retinue of a heartless
host whose idea of celebration is to
sit in Caesar’s chair in a coliseum
while lives of gladiators are
sacrificed to his whims of
hurt and blood.

A (now) Necessarily Anonymous American,
(Screw ICE)

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