Naked
by Michael A. Griffith / June 4th, 2017
Braid lightning and thunder
like the hair of a whore
or like a virgin soon to be taken.
Call the storm your own,
usher in ruin and clouds,
rage when you’ve been forsaken.
Take us people, tear us asunder,
tell us you’re making us great.
Build up your walls, your legacy of hate.
And rail and bully, throw the stone;
sling mud as you lie, even to yourself.
We will never be silenced, never be cowed.
You are accountable, we’re keeping watch
as you display your tantrums and pouts.
Demagogue demigod, our naked emperor.
Michael A. Griffith began writing poetry during a year-long stay in a nursing and rehabilitation facility as he overcame a life-changing injury. Poetry healed his spirit as operations and physical therapy healed his body. His writing has appeared in print and web-based outlets including The Foxglove Journal, Poetry Quarterly, Dual Coast Poetry, and Ripen the Page. He lives near Princeton, NJ.
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This article was posted on Sunday, June 4th, 2017 at 8:02am and is filed under Poetry.
