Ballroom
Nero fiddled as Rome was burning down
And Marie Antoinette, when told the plebes
Had no more bread and so were discontent,
Asked why they did not switch instead to cake.
The truth or falsity of tales like these
From long ago cannot, perhaps, be found,
But surely, we have heard of other words
The senseless ones have spoken in our times.
And some might well have paused on hearing these,
As others shrugged—or willingly agreed.
The saying “Walk a mile in another’s shoes
Before you judge him.” has its wisdom still.
It’s only when we’ve suffered or have seen
How others suffer that we wake from dreams.
How much of hubris humans long have seen,
How much of shameless ignorance and greed!
How brief and transient, social memory!
How easily we’re led astray by lies!
******
I often wish a strategy were found
To place our “leaders”, with their “donors”, in
The village huts, the urban slums, the mines,
The sweatshops, ceaseless mills and factories—
And in the camps or fields where refugees
Are huddled, drenched by rain and pierced by cold
Or scorched and parched by sun and heat. That’s where
The young and old can't sleep and even die
From illnesses and burns and injuries,
Or shock and trauma as the bombs explode,
While others still must live and carry on
And try to care for self and family—
While Trump extends his ballroom with delight.
******
It will be Christmas soon and some will feast
As others starve or wait in line for food,
While knowing they might well be killed for this
And add to tens of thousands killed before,
As others wish they’d died to join with these.
And here, within this homeland, Winter blows.
As subsidies for vital things subside,
Our migrant workers still are hunted prey
And every week we hear of people killed
In worse-than-pirate acts in southern seas.
Our glorious leader lacked in decency
Throughout his public life and now exceeds
In words and actions all his past misdeeds.
He trumpets war and flings his falsehoods wild.
He orders murders and he issues threats,
As all that once was sacred lies defiled.
******
We now see golden glitter line the walls
Within the rooms so full of history,
With all their glories and their tragedies,
Where other leaders--each with virtue, vice--
Had made decisions, faulted though they were,
Maintaining still some shreds of dignity.
It is as if a mad cartoonist seized
Our works of art, revered, and drew on these
His mustaches and beards and penises,
And urinated then upon the canvases.
2025 Dec 20, Sat.
Berkeley, California
