(Too angry to write a poem, you say to yourself? Feck that, write the damn pome!}
Nothing will stop us….they can try and try and try but the storm is here and it is descending upon DC in less than 24 hours….dark to light!)
When a coward Klansman killed Martin Luther King
Troops and machine guns guarded the US Capitol
The iron fist not hidden behind kid gloves then
But those troops were absent yesterday
When Dr. King’s murderers marched in, laughing,
Unfurled their bloody Klux flag
And planted their filthy shit-kicker boots
On the People’s desks in the sacred halls of Congress.
While their fat POTUS /Kleagle pledged them his love.
Like a doting father to his brood of hissing vipers.
The iron fist rested in a soft velvet glove.
Martin Luther King told us to forbear
That the arc of justice bends to the good
Like a taut bow whose arrow will fly true
On January 6 2021 that arc broke
That arrow fell into the Potomac, into the Dixie mud.
Dr. King never knew how low America could go.
His faith took him to his grave.
This is no land of the free, home of the brave.
This is the home of the fascist snake.
Vietnam was only a warm up show.
Now the war, in truth, comes home.
Bring it in faith in rage, in debts long delayed.
Uno, Dos, Tres . . . Muchos! as Che liked to say.
The time to forbear has ended.
The time has come, as Malcolm said
To bring the chickens home to roost
And to fry or roast.
The time to take off gloves
The time to see Trump
and his ill born children.
And all the Grand Old Party.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
Bill Nevins Jan. 7 2021
Bill Nevins is a 73 year old poet/journalist/educator and veteran of the long march in America, Ireland and elsewhere. He has two books of poetry out there on amazon, etc. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org