We’re More Than Less

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Rudderless, clueless; we float in a sea of endless questions,
This is now our darkest hour, our twilight time,
The door not closed nor open, with clock that counts but has no chime,
Power lies comatose, useless and insensible to sensible suggestions.

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Hopeless, helpless; as our deckchairs are arranged yet once again,
Set out one day, then rearranged to suit some whim,
Some fancy of our masters, to support a margin o so slim,
To make it look like normality, not profound untruths supporting the insane.

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Leaderless, senseless; we shift from this to that but never what is right,
We waste our time on sideshows etched in blue, a choice of little choice,
A minority selection, by a single agéd demographic voice,
This no people’s will, no mandate - just good old-fashioned blight.

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So drop all these arguments for less, we’re more than this,
We’re more than just our sum of parts, more than just a binary sum,
A yes or no, a this or that, an in or out – do not to this succumb.
By diverse parts, put back together this nation from the brink of this abyss.

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© Keith Murphy