Poetry by Justin M. Kolenc

You can tell me not to love my neighbors,

     but you can’t make me do it.

You can dig your dark tunnel and line it with hate,

     but you can’t make me go through it.

You can claim that your faith is under attack. So,

     a good Christian? To win you can’t be it.

You can declare yourself under threat from all sides,

     but that’s not true, and you can’t make me see it.

You can intimate that good reason exists for your constant “othering,”

     but you only negate your own argument with such blustery wuthering.

You can bark, “It’s God’s work,” and even call it glamorous,

     but you can’t fool the Pope with your ‘Ordo Amoris.’

You can audaciously declare human beings to be ‘illegal,’

     while displaying gaudy signs of wealth and calling it ‘regal.’

You can cry, “Hands off my land!” Because, shame? You don’t feel it.

     But all of that land—every last inch—you had to steal it!

You can insist that our LGBTQIA+ children are evil,

     but you can’t make us, their proud parents, believe you.

You can cry that their ‘sins’ are decried up above,

     but can’t take their humanity, and can’t kill our love.

You can bring world leaders to heel, demand suits and apologies,

     but you can never fake your way into such higher pedigrees.

Zelensky runs circles around you fascists, and daily,

     plus you act like an old man whose spray tan has him ailing.

You’re a joke, a jest, a gag and a drollery,

     you come off like a josh, a rib, or a waggery,

No one on this planet will ever take you seriously,

     certainly not the top tier who laugh at you deliriously.

Be gone with you devil, you incipient neonate,

     your platform is failure, and that does not resonate!

Not with the good people of our great continent,

     who will tell your story as, “Meh. Came and went.”