Times Like These Poem by Dillon McKenna

Times Like These



In a time of great thoughts and little actions,
The people again become slaves to fashion.
The love of self has overwhelmed,
The vessel has veered far off course,
As graft and greed have taken the helm
And hidden where they are steering us towards.
Is there no more room for compassion?

Has the light of hope faded from our eyes?
And the marvel of love from our minds?
Lost to hands stained with green and red,
Which take without thought of giving.
Our will to fight has been left for dead,
We must find it in the land of the living.
This is the goal, and freedom the prize.

Many a man will sell his soul in a flash,
The spark of life means less to him than cash.
Still others are not content with wealth,
And seek their fortune in gilded halls.
Where they relax in happiness and health,
Where the blood of the just stains the walls.
And politicians barter and laugh.

My neighbor may not desire the change
To a world where love and hope remain.
And will try to douse my heart with malice,
Trying to bend me to a broken shape.
Hate is their drink, and fear their chalice,
That drags their souls down to a wretched place
And binds it in venomous chains.

But bile and bitterness will no longer deter me,
Innocent cries have become a deafening symphony.
And to my ears their pleas are in one voice.
They beg for the simplest of freedoms,
For just the right to make their own choice.
But who is there to see them?
Who can heal their hopeless misery?

And thus I am glad to give myself
To try, and try, and try to help.
For amassing wealth can satisfy one,
And the pursuit of power the other.
Those vile beings I could never become,
I see too much fear in the eye of my brother,
And too much glee in building this hell.

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