This is no service dog
attentive and heeling
helpfully by our side.
The hollow party line
“Make America Great Again”
ringing ever false, harmonized
with the efficient oligarch’s blade
as it slips into the belly of our nation,
gutting Americorps.
Who will clean your mold filled home
when the flood waters recede?
Who will drape the blue tarps
over the hurricane torn holes of your roof?
Who will plant the trees to hold onto the banks
and the salmon of your river?
Who will dig in the ash of the forest, to cool the coals
keeping the fire from spreading to your town?
Who will wade into the mudslide to rescue your body
when disaster strikes with the spring rain?
Who will keep open your trail and campground
or did you think they maintained themselves?
They do not serve.
They don’t even know what the word means.
They worship and hoard at the altar of the hollow-self – first, last and always.
Another boot stepping on the hands of a tired generation, barely hanging on
cutting a lifeline
to our best,
those desperate to live
a dignified life, in-tandem-step with their values
but these few dollars, crumbs really, is still too much to allow
for it is antithesis to their degenerate worldview
its very existence needing erasure, too striking a contrast
viewed next to their own complete emptiness.
But some of us still know
what the word Service means:
The action of helping someone else.
And if they had taken even a cursory glance at history
they would run
for there will be action and reaction aplenty.