Tonight's Poet Corner: No Fascist USA
No Fascist USA
by Belinda Roddie
Take me down to where she died,
where the tire treads and the glass still lie.
Watch me stare, and take my hand,
knowing that I need to take a stand.
White men marching, arms outstretched -
on their skin, the evil mark is etched.
I can hear the distant echoes of
a Reich that they profess to love.
They're not ashamed; they're not oppressed
for race, or sex, or how they dress.
And yet, they leave hate on the wall
while Cheeto Man's fine with it all.
I may despise the Nazi flag,
but in the end, can I really brag
that I'm much better in this sea
of the same contagious apathy?
My heart is sick, and my mind is numb,
but I still can hear the battle drums.
I need you to let go of my hand
so I can fight this war and take a stand.
by Belinda Roddie
Take me down to where she died,
where the tire treads and the glass still lie.
Watch me stare, and take my hand,
knowing that I need to take a stand.
White men marching, arms outstretched -
on their skin, the evil mark is etched.
I can hear the distant echoes of
a Reich that they profess to love.
They're not ashamed; they're not oppressed
for race, or sex, or how they dress.
And yet, they leave hate on the wall
while Cheeto Man's fine with it all.
I may despise the Nazi flag,
but in the end, can I really brag
that I'm much better in this sea
of the same contagious apathy?
My heart is sick, and my mind is numb,
but I still can hear the battle drums.
I need you to let go of my hand
so I can fight this war and take a stand.
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