Stale, Mate

Somewhere a song of victory is waiting
for someone brave enough to write it down,
once they slip past the barricades downtown
where both sides are engaged in pointless hating.

Until such time, what good is celebrating?
Such tunes will just distract us as we drown,
and occupy the mourners gathered round,
licking their lips. They are salivating.

© 2026, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.

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