They hate him but everyday say his name.
The insults and mocking are more powerful
Than the most potent growth hormones.
As he grows, he bellows, drawing
Minion demons near, frightening the herd.
Luckily, it seems, the demons are weak
And easily defeated, but each
Lopped off head seems to summon
Ten, 100, or 1000 more automata
Bringing the battle to their betters.
Perhaps someone should have built a wall.
Perhaps someone should have built an entire house.
While flailing at a dust devil in the desert,
The hordes, who previously had little to do,
Were stirred to action—to destruction.
Perhaps it is time to turn away from spectacle
And focus on preservation or even flourishing.
The jokes have grown repetitive, anyway,
And the audience is weary of laughing desperation.
Just say you want to do good, you know what is good,
And you love the others.
Set your shoulder to the stone,
Dig in your heels,
If Sisyphus can do it,
I’m sure you will be at the crest soon.