An Ode to the Cowards in Charge

More about An Ode to the Cowards in Charge

Oh, mighty lords of half-drawn lines,
Masters of murmurs, spineless swine.
Bent to sway, afraid to stand,
As progress surges—slipping hands.

The fire rages, the halls are breached,
Yet still you tremble, backs outstretched.
Not to charge, nor lead, nor fight,
You seek safety—ask yourself, are you the shipwrights?

Oh, how you scurry, how quick you run,
Like pigs at a trough when the feeding's begun.
Do you think the storm will pass you by,
If you cower low and close your eyes?

History calls, yet you turn away,
Checking polls, counting your pay.
But courage isn’t found in gold,
Nor in deals so cheaply sold.

The people rise, and still you cower—
Afraid to seize your rightful hour.
Would you kneel and drink your fill,
While marching past the people’s will?

Take heed, you ghosts of power’s past,
This moment’s weight is fierce and vast.
Lead, or leave—choose now, be swift!
For tides do turn, and sands do shift.

Unelected hands should have no say
In how the people’s voices pay.
No vote, no voice, no right to rule—
So pry your snouts from out the gruel.

Pull your face from the trough,
Stand on your own or be the rot.

Civitasvox
ChatGPT