You Don’t Get My Obedience

By Max Mundan

You’ve got it now-
-the title, the office, the power-
-your filthy, greedy, tiny hands
in our pockets, in our coffers,
on our pussies, on the button.
You’re on the top of the world
and have the means today
to satisfy every sad, perverse desire
but you don’t get my obedience.

You’ve got it all-
-the reins, the whip, the chains-
-your greasy, pudgy fingers
holding both the carrot
and the stick—your foot,
stepping down upon our necks.
You can silence the press
and make us all criminals
for demanding the country we love
but you don’t get my obedience.

I will dog you and expose you
as the charlatan you are,
I will scream, I will blaspheme you.
I will take your silly name in vain.
I will block your path
and call your bluff
and correct your spelling
when you tweet out
that you hate me-
-that you hate us-
-that you hate
everything we stand for.

Me, and millions like me,
will pour into the streets-
-to demand democracy-
-demand accountability-
-to demand decency-
even though we realize
that you have no idea
what these words mean.

You’ve got them all-
-your toadies, your scumbags, your villains-
-your ass-licking sycophants
and your blood-sucking leeches,
ready and willing
to tear to the ground
all the good that we’ve built.
You can have this momentary victory
but you don’t get my obedience.

Max Mundan is a freelance writer and a poet. He is the author of four published poetry collections, including Junkies Die Alone (Thought Catalog Books, 2014) and Five Words That Can Cripple a Man (Underground Voices, 2016). Max’s work has been featured in the Los Angeles Times, Dressing Room Poetry, Eunoia Review, Wilderness House Literary Journal, Type House Magazine, Avalon Literary Review Review, Los Angeles Review of Los Angeles, and Agave among others. He can be found resisting fascism at maxmundan.net and @maxmundan on Twitter.

Photo by Paul Sableman via a Creative Commons license.