Blessed Season

It’s a challenge to stay sane now it’s the season
for madness what with idiots giving voice
to power-mad ogres who make a scurrilous play
to enslave us, saying they will make us great
again. As if we ever weren’t. The race
for now is finding judges who’ll convict

these fools who say we are led best by a convict
and by prevaricating robber thieves who season
dissent with hate to sensitise minds to race
and gender as being divisive. A loud voice
incites us to rate differences as great
and to welcome how there will be Hell to play

in, as our new home. This will be a short play
with no intervals, just the role of the convict
in many guises all of which are great
crowd pleasers in their wished-for silly season.
Off stage we hear a single plaintive voice
they calls us to our senses as we race


pell-mell to Hell. It tells us, ‘Stop your race
to perdition. You have other roles to play.’
It could be you. It could be me. This voice
is still powerful, though still. It can convict
the robber thieves who try to steal this season
that’s meant in truth to let ourselves be great.


Not again, but still. We always have been great.
It’s silly, you could say tragic, how we race
to partake of useless potions with which we season
emotions so the negative that can play
havoc with good living. Tricks convict
only people who don’t heed their inner voice.


The morning sun survives. It gives us voice.
We rise together and our power’s great.
We free up love and reason, and we jail the convict
who tried to divide us up by sex and race.
What had been tragic is now a morality play
that teaches how to have a blessed season.


Oh Love, oh Reason, be our guides and race
and win against the evil men who play
for evil. Let this be a blessed season.

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