for Alan Fraser
A friend of mine
Raised among the flower children
Told me before he died
We had it right
Peace, love, and understanding
But we turned from the light
And all has been darkness since
And I remember
I was told in my turn
We are the world
We belong to the light
But the Gordon Gekkos
The Ayn Rands
The Donald Trumps
Spoke their poison into our ears
And, eager to best our parents
We became little Alex Keatons
Extinguishing the light further
Seeking stuff over people
A shallow money trench
Blood gutters and all
But no light
Now we sit in the inky black
Afraid even of each other
And wonder how we got here
And when the good times are coming back
My friends
We killed them ourselves
Wrung the life from their necks
With our own hands
As…
