The steam began to billow,
The engine howl,
The air to vibrate and scowl,
The sun to emerge from below
To erase shadows, cast doubts,
Cleave good from bad,
Stir the lover and the lout.

I watch things hurtle forth
(See me hurtle forth!):
Debate and propaganda morph,
Truth and lies, they morph
Like rock into dust,
Like hope into fear,
Like love into lust.

The crowds are busy, loud
Yet silent: they shop
And complain, are proud
To harvest a crop
Of junk that serves to hide
The horror of evil
As it hitches a ride

On trains, buses, planes
And cars and hearts and minds,
As it falls like rain,
As it takes freedom and grinds
It into a mist of pleasure and pain,
A toxic brew the people imbibe
Until their plans are blithely slain.

Where is the army that battles
The false, the grotesque,
The snake that rattles
And the dignified turned burlesque?
What is the weapon, what is the plan
Against a dumb and sated foe
That would my rights gladly ban?

The weather’s grim, the fields are fallow:
I see not whence the flowers will bloom
So long as we, the dissidents, allow
Hate to enter our nation’s womb;
So I say to the victor: you may arrest or kill
Me, but never will you win my consent,
Nor will I cease to resist and fight you and your ilk.

Written from a train on Wednesday, December 21st and in the aftermath of the election of a bigot to President of the United States of America