Certainly the brashest child in the family
Not the oldest, by far, nor the youngest either
But the one who ended up on center stage
When the lights came up on the century.

Big brother to most of the younger ones
In squabbles with some of the nearby ones.
And sometimes not willing to play with the neighbors.
Who were often friendly and usually needy
Of help in some kind of form or another.

Shaking hands across vast distance
Finding reasons to feel the same
Playgroups were formed to rebuild the playhouses
After the bullies had knocked them all down

Reveling in luxury not always entitled
Exporting ideals not followed at home
Growing fat and complacent with what it produces
And sometimes self righteous and greedy for more.

Some say they sense twilight and see the stars dimming
The weather will **** us they shout to deaf ears
The playground divided into blues and crimsons
And lost sight of the goal line in quest for a win.

The maggots all swarmed on the beefiest cut
Rotting under the hot lights of justice
Not enough brooms could be had by the voters
To manage to somehow clean up such a mess.

Teetering on the sharp edge of destruction
The clock reaches midnight and bells start to toll
But is it the weather that going to **** us
Or some human weapon the powerful chose.
ljm