When Piper Had His Way
A pampered son of privilege, of infantile entitlement,
he rode the escalator down, grandstanding his campaign.
He tongue-lashed his contenders, making them grovel
into silent shame, silent, scandalous, craven disgrace,
when Piper had his way.
He spattered spiteful splatter on his screeching penny whistle,
crude culture war caustics, the coded corrosive cacophony
of othering, of terrorizing, the Great Replacement closet
skeletons in every white supremacist’s delusion,
when Piper had his way.
The raging torches burned holes in the night sky,
from all the fuming, festering fractures they came.
He reeled in vermin, gnawers, ticks, fleas, and maggots.
From fetid, rotted flesh, the dead and dying democracy,
when Piper had his way.
The noxious stench permeated every moral fiber,
Every conviction was consumed by avarice.
Every flaunted corruption overpowered common decency.
Every dull-witted stunt became a predictable mockery,
when Piper had his way.
And thus, he led all the children of Hamelin astray
with his deceptive, discordant whistle squeaks.
He sealed them in his criminal conspiracy cave.
They never questioned his chicanery,
when Piper had his way.
And so, when Piper finally faded away
the defilement dragged on and on.
The diseased, depraved devaluation persisted.
The sordid, squalid, sickly stain remained,
since Piper had his say.
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