Ides of May
A poem by Chilly Billy Howell
Ides of May
What a day
What a day
Docked sans a bang
Easin’ in
‘neath the chin
Six feet from the virus
March blew hot
Rife with rot
Genesis East of West
Held near the vest
Kept from the West
Economies now in shambles
Opportunists led
With masks of dread
Intending to stifle
Both breath and rot
A polyglot
Hoping to dismantle
The brave and free
Who’d never be
Counted as elite
Middle class
Now out of gas
Backbone of a nation
‘Tween plenty and none
This class doth run
Hither dither and yonder
Yet when we run
Toward the Son
All will be well
Government matters
Yet now in tatters
Earth its home confined
The Son of God
Cannot be prod
His shoulders broad and stout
Creation sings
The praise of Kings
Seeking righteous order
‘Tis no joke
For Godly folk
To trust the Seen Unseen
Despite our tough
We aren’t enough
Fragile to the core
We pimp and preen
To be seen
As more than we’re able
Head to toe
God doth know
We need Him more than ever
Acknowledgement of
Our need for Love
Is where new life begins…
We must break bread
To avoid the dread
Of impish isolation
Thanks!