Tuesday, December 16, 2014

‘Twas the Weeks Before Christmas – Christmas time in America 2014

"Love is but a song we sing,
And fear's the way we die” - Chet Powers

Guns. Violence. Murder. The bread and butter, the very backbone of who and what we are as a country - Merry Christmas. Whether it be the regularly scheduled school shootings (this massacre of the innocent is proudly and happily sponsored by your frenemies at the National Rifle Association in conjunction with the bought and paid for Republicans on Capitol Hill) or the shoot first and ask questions later policies too frequently practiced by white police officers toward young, African-American men from purple mountain majesties to fruited plains to gleaming alabaster cities throughout the land.

We’ve made a conscious decision as a society, as a people and as a governing institution that we would begrudgingly accept frequent mass shootings rather than place any limitations on the ability of the criminally minded and mentally unstable from purchasing firearms, even automatic and semi-automatic assault weaponry intended solely for military use. Instead, we have chosen to occasionally sacrifice our children on the altar of the NRA and the faulty misinterpretation that the Second Amendment permits any and all citizens of the Red, White and Blue the right to own arms, which it does not.

Additionally, in the “Stand Your Ground” nation of 21st century America, while not technically legal for white people, particularly law enforcement agents, to shoot black people, it has become commonly allowed and increasingly a crime that escapes punishment or prosecution.

So, welcome to Christmas 2014, and to get you in the appropriate, non-festive spirit befitting this period and place, enjoy this modern and timely adaptation of the Clement Clarke Moore classic, “A Visit from St. Nicholas.”

 ‘Twas the Weeks Before Christmas – A Visit from the Nick

'Twas the weeks before Christmas and all through the state
Folks invest in protesting institutional hate.
Gendarmes prepped the tear gas with impeccable care
For they knew that the marchers soon would be there.

Black children lay frightened and huddled in beds,
Having just been enlightened ‘bout the price on their heads.
While Mom tried to calm them and Dad did his best
To explain the germane points of civil unrest.

When out in the street there arose such a clatter
A pop from a cop gun and another life shattered.
Away from the windows they flew like a flash,
To be safe from the strafe of a follow-up clash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow 
Gave the luster of midday to the body below, 
Then, what to their watering eyes did they see,
Not a doc or a nurse or a brave EMT.

The young victim just lay in his blood, unattended,
While the group, sworn to serve,  got their tall tale amended.
Once the details were clear in their story, they joked
Of a vicious attack, every bit unprovoked.

And the courts in each case fill Conservative dictum
If the skin’s a bit dark, put the blame on the victim
A lesson to learn this pre-holiday time
Just trust us, rare’s justice for this sort of crime

So, a wish for us all this most festive of seasons,
No more need to protest, let's end these racist reasons.
For every life matters, not just each shade of white,
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a safe night.

We close with a classic song from the 60’s whose message may seem a bit dated or naïve but very needed, if heeded, in such turbulent days.

Any comments, questions, criticisms, candid confessions, cash contributions? Contact me at butchers aprons@mail.com.

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