I stayed up all night for the result of the American election, wondering how it was going to turn out.
At first, I wondered why I was so emotionally involved in America's business, when I live in a faraway little town in England. Surely America's problems would stay in America and the world would just go on minding its business while America find a critical path through its storm, but that is a dream.
The United State of America's impact on this planet is so vast, that when it sneezes, everyone else catches pneumonia, as they say.
If you are a fatalist, or you believe in destiny or providence (divine or otherwise) you could argue that the Universe or the Higher Being seldom gets it wrong, which suggests that Trump must be the answer to something and all we have to do is figure out what the problem is that he has been elected to solve, or the question that he will be answering in the next four years. Like most people, I too am completely flummoxed and do not have a clue.
As for why he won the election? Well apart from destiny and Clinton not knowing or learning how to win the big prize, or maybe her just snatching defeat from the jaws of the proverbial victory, I think this poem from my upcoming collection "Relentless Realities" might just offer another reason. It is called "The Results Could Be Tragic" (Copyright Roy Merchant). Please use the link to my website: relentless-realities.com
The Results Could Be Tragic
I Sat There Probing Resolutely Behind
The elaborate protection of a feather tough mind
What I finally perused made no initial sense
What stared back at me was virginal innocence
I must say at first I was really bemused
Then fear hit me at how easily this mind could be used
With a body so strong and a mind so lethargic
In the wrong hands the results could be tragic
The mind said it didn’t really like to think
Because it could never really see the link
Between analysing what the media say
And just trying to survive for another day
So it goes home, sit down, eat and watch TV
Doesn’t question anything, just believe what it sees
If they say plutonium dust is good for the pup
The next day it will try and get some from the shop
It says it is disillusioned with the progress of its life
But what can it do when political excess is so rife
You cannot win, so what=s the sense of the fight
It’s best to ignore it, everything will be all right
So it just goes along, giving up all of its rights
While the power of the state develops a real hard bite,
There is no one to question and keep it in control
And the minds are too busy doing as they are told
The mind said it didn’t like the independent press
Because to read them it’s like an intelligent test
Besides they never inform it what it has to do
And there is no bingo on page twenty two
At that point of the probe it started to sleep
It was only nine thirty, but the sleep was deep
I came out of that mind. Totally perplexed
And I Am Just Wondering, What's Going To Happen Next!!!