Tag: collapse

“See, their morals, their code… it’s a bad joke. Dropped at the first sign of trouble. They’re only as good as the world allows them to be. I’ll show you, when the chips are down, these… these civilized people? They’ll eat each other. See, I’m not a monster, I’m just ahead of the curve.”

—The Joker, from the film, The Dark Knight

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The school went on lockdown today

A report came in about an armed student
Roaming the campus

Students were immediately instructed
To go to their dorms, and stay put

After some five or ten, agonizing minutes,
The determination was made,
It was only a hoax

This is an old gag
Kids get bored,
Call in a bomb threat
Just for giggles
Or, to get out of a test

Maybe, it’s to cover their tardiness,
When, one more late-show
Would have caused them to
Fail a particular class

But, these days,
On the national level,
There are more mass shootings
Than there are
Days in the year

Who’s to know
When to be truly concerned?
Or, when to be
Merely annoyed?

The young girl on the news said
The thing that bothered her most
Was how no one talked about it,
After the all-clear signal was given;
She said it went on like a normal day,
As if nothing had happened

She said it was as if
Everything was fine,
When really, underneath,
Everyone knew that
Nothing about it was normal,
Much less, fine

The teachers didn’t address the issue
The students didn’t speak
To each other about it, either

One has to wonder,
How many false alarms can occur,
Before the security guards begin
Dropping their guard?
How many, before they stop
Taking the threats seriously?

What happens, when
The real thing goes down,
And they don’t stop it, because
They got sloppy,
Because of too many
False alarms?

This was one of several such incidents
That took place on multiple campuses,
All on this one, particular day

But, at the heart of it all,
This was not one incident,
Nor was it two, or even five

This, is the new normal
The regular, daily pattern of
Life in the United States,
The common thread
In the tapestry of America

This is the age of the Joker

Every card is wild

It’s not always an active shooter
It’s not always a bomb threat
It’s not even always about
An event at a school

It’s sometimes a threat of
Imminent war against other countries

It’s the news weather forecast
It’s the stories of tornado victims,
The death tolls of flash floods,
Hurricanes, landslides, heatstroke

It’s the rumors, dog whistles, and
Outright cries for civil war in America

It’s the empty shelves at the grocery store

It’s the ongoing, never-ending
Supply chain problems

It’s requisite new vocabulary,
Terms like “doomerism,”
And the dusting off of classic, 70s hits, like
“Collapse,” and, The Limits to Growth

It’s the shortages of needed medications

It’s learning the heart-wrenching truth about
The children of Somalia,⠀
And many other nations like it

It’s the mounting lies that
Erode faith in the system
It’s the creeping groan of fascism,
Sinking its fangs into
The Statue of Liberty’s jugular,
Insisting that she report her periods
To the school nurse

That she burn all those lurid copies of
And Tango Makes Three,
The Bluest Eye, and
Out of Darkness

Slapping the “woke” beer out of her hand,
Making her spit out that “woke” chocolate candy

Making her subject to laws that
Relegate her to the status of cattle,
Demanding that she inform on her friends,
Should they seek to cross state lines
For any health care that involves
Their naughty parts

Insisting that she never speak the
Dreaded crimson words,
Words telling of the flowing of blood,
From the sacred place that
Spawned each of us,
Even those who, now,
Refuse to speak of the cycle of life
That is responsible for their
Entire existence

She is soon to be muzzled,
Disallowed from speaking anything
Beyond, a pained statement of duress…
“Yes, I am happy to bear your seed.”

She will wear a red burka,
Shaped like a baseball cap,
Peppersprayed with meaningless words,
About a mythical nation that ever existed,
One built on the backs of slaves,
Slaves who she must never mention
To her children

Ruby is only a gem, and a color,
Bridges are but things we drive over,
In our carbon-spitting SUVs

Parks is not a name,
It is a noun, describing a place where
People go to enjoy nature;
Good, upstanding white folk,
Standing on the skulls of
Nameless hordes of ghosts

These ghosts whisper foul incantations,
“We are here, too! We have names!”

They seek to possess good, caucasian children,
Swaying them into the unacceptable madness
Of admitting various lunacies, such as,
“Yes, these are human beings. They have proud names, rich heritages, and incredible stories of
Overcoming adversity.”

Insisting that the children
Not be allowed to become
The fodder of the Devil’s history,
Declaring, as if it were true,
“These were the Sioux, the Wichita, the Apache,
The Chinese, Pakistani, the Mexican,
The African, the transgender, and
The women, who monthly bleed,
As God saw fit for them to bleed.”

Surely, all will fall into ruin and chaos,
Were the children to speak about
Such horrors as boys, kissing other boys,
Or, girls, kissing other girls

These are not things good folks discuss
At the dinner table, or in places of learning
No, these are things that must never
See the light of day

After all, the clergy, and the Congressmen,
They had the common decency
To perform their fellatios on each other,
And on the young children,
Under the cover of darkness

“Why can’t these godless teachers
Shut their fucking mouths?!
Sorry, I cursed… forgive me, Jesus
I just become so incredibly angry,
When people have the unmitigated gall
To tell our children that
A huge, astonishing, astounding percentage
Of the world’s population
Thinks and behaves
Differently than us”

Oh, the unruly, unkempt insanity
Of spilling the beans about our actual,
True history, soaked as it is,
In the blood of slaves, migrants,
And silently suffering “others,”
Who we would not abide
Who we would not allow
To follow their natures,
However discreetly they sought to do so

“Isn’t it clear? Don’t they see it?
Don’t they see how immigrants
Are coming to invade us?
How these foreigners want to
Take over this proud land that was
Inhabited only by pure, white blood,
For thousands of years?”

This is the golden age of the false narrative,
Wiggling in “lies” about Murika being built
By “people” from Ireland, Scotland, France,
Africa, Spain, and even many other
Godless lands

“They want our children to believe that
We enslaved an entire race of coloreds
I mean, obviously, we did, but…
What the hell else were we going to do?
That cotton and tobacco wasn’t going to
Pick itself

“They want to murder
The memory of our heroes,
Our General Custer’s, and
Our great General John Wayne
Replace them, with lies about us
Slaughtering innocents, and taking their lands
I mean, obviously, we did do that, but…
What kind of monsters want
The children to know
The truth of it?!”

They have enough to worry about,
Trying to sort out who is the real President,
Whether or not our elections are rigged;
The same election process that put
The other guy in the big chair, last time

Trying to decide if the man
Walking toward them will offer help,
Or rape, or murder

We can’t protect our children from
Being shot at school, or from
Getting high-powered weapons,
And irreparably harming others,

Instead, we focus on preventing them from
Getting a hold of far more dangerous items,
Like condoms, and birth control pills

We rabidly foam on about the
Tyranny of ideas, and events
That are common knowledge

Mandatory background checks,
For anyone who is trying to buy
A semiautomatic weapon?
Unacceptable

Clearly, anyone sensible enough to know
That they need the protection of an AR-15
Is sensible enough to keep their names
Off government lists!

It’s really quite simple…
Childhood pregnancy? good
Females bleeding? not good

Books, scary
Bibles, awesomeness

Ar-15s, yes
Disney, a total mess

Migrants (or women) crossing borders? No
Barbara’s Bleeding Logbook? God bless

The collapsing climate?
Must suppress.

Tax cuts for billionaires, they do impress

Lose an election? Just don’t confess
More than two genders?
We must redress.

The economy, must never recess
Historical facts… “His story,” nonetheless

See? I told you it was simple.
Try to keep up, stupid.

But, anyway,
The school went on lockdown today

But, it was only a prank

So, everything is
Just fine

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©2023 Kevin Trent Boswell

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The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell