age of effigy

We live in the age of effigy
We construct straw men to set afire,
and dance around them, feeling exorcised

in righteous and satisfied glow of ire.
Then return, disgusted, to shaking our heads
teeth clenched, flying spittle, demanding of all:

"How can they continue to be this way?
The way that I say they are,

so small
so simple

such voodoo dolls,
after all.

They don't stand for them - what they say they do.

They stand for me. I have set them up.
I know them like they don't know themselves,
from a point of view that is incorrupt

And they all mean exactly just what I say:
so terrible, petty and vile it is!
And no matter what they say they mean
and believe

- such pathetic excuse
cannot exist.

Cannot ring true, or stand
- not once you rightly know
who they are,
what they signify.

How can thinking beings go on like this?
So far,

it doesn't make sense to me at all. The lie!
Their sick motivations, I've given to them,
and refuse to consider a thing they say

- for I know what it only would mean, okay?
They haven't a chance taking me

in such sway.

But I wish
that they weren't so impossible

To understand
To reach
To hear

I don't see how they can act like this,"

Light an effigy, then dance circles

around your fear,
my dear

- it's the only way

to turn the earth over
unconsciousness,
and make the sun rise,
to illuminate yet -

another day,

you'll see

about what you think it is.