RH
A note from Dr. Hendrix
Now and then a set of small, sharp images gathers into a poem for me, lions and suits and closets and all. This piece is one of those, a handful of verses that came the way poems do. I wrote it because some truths only agree to be told sideways, in rhythm and image rather than plain speech.
— Dr. Roger Hendrix · We share these stories so you can know the family behind GreenTeaHP.
1.
Lions
I am a bigger lion than you
No one is a bigger lion than me
Watch me dart to the left of you
So sorry you tripped going to the left of me
Suits
There are suits that fit and suits that don’t
He chose to wear a suit that didn’t
To a tea party he went wearing a suit that didn’t
They grumbled that he wore a suit that didn’t
Closet
He was raised in a family of moderates
His father was a famous moderate
I believed he was a closeted moderate
I no longer believe he was a moderate
Who is he?
If he’s not a liberal
Or a conservative
Not even a moderate
Who is he?
Choices
A liar?
A pragmatist?
An opportunist?
?
No one knows
Not even he knows
Let’s hope he never knows
Eventually he’ll know
2.
Lost
All is hidden he thinks
But nothing is concealed
All is revealed
Fooled
He fooled the world he thinks
But not the soul or the brain
There’ll be strain
Visits
One night whether awake or asleep
He’ll be visited by ghosts of his past
They’ll speak of all he thought he hid
They won’t let him conceal
All will be revealed
And visits
Then the nights will be long awake or asleep
He’ll continue to be visited by ghosts of his past
They’ll say it was he who was fooled
He’ll feel the groaning of his soul the tumbling in his brain
There will be no end to the strain
3.
Taking
In his career he lined out the poor
In his campaign he grabbed from the rich
He raided the poor and fleeced the rich
Heads I win – tails I win
Heads you lose – tails you lose
Flawed
He learned to transfer wealth
He did not learn to create wealth
If the ghosts do not visit him
It goes deeper than I thought
He has a tragic flaw is my thought
Sociopath
He’s possessed by more than a lie
He’s more than a shrewd pragmatist
He’s sicker than a petty opportunist
He’s a pathological sociopath
4.
No Soul
So he’s a sociopath
Then he’ll not be visited by a ghost
There’ll be no groaning of the soul
For there is no soul to groan
Heel
It’ll be left to churning minds
Who felt the point of his pen
And the farce of his campaign
To bring him to heel