Rise Up, Day 3 (from 23 January 2017)<\/p>\n
It rained again today,
\nLarge, thick drops,
\nLike sobs,
\nAs though the sky,
\nA pathetic fallacy,
\nWept for the loss
\nOf our dignity
\nOn the first Monday
\nAfter hope was sworn away.<\/p>\n
Each day, we wake up
\nTo halting words
\nThat make little sense,
\nAlternative perspectives
\nComposed like strange
\nAnd twisted cantrips
\nAt the witching hour
\nIn the flickering dimness
\nOf a handheld glow.
\nWe awaken to the words
\nOf these strange spells,
\nCaptivated, transfixed, enticed
\nBy the serpentine tongue
\nThat seems at once simple
\nYet spawns spools of text
\nStruggling to wrestle logic
\nFrom nonsense.<\/p>\n
We begin to grow numb,
\nLike addicts inured to another fix,
\nAlcoholics for whom the whisky
\nNo longer provides a pleasant buzz.
\nWe laughed, once,
\nAt the clown on the stage,
\nThe too-loud, too-large figure
\nWho did not belong
\nOutside of the ring.
\nWe shook our heads
\nAnd turned away,
\nIgnoring the cheering crowds,
\nDismissing them, like children
\nOr fools,
\nNot believing in their power
\nTo reshape the face
\nOf our society with so much clown-white.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"