The Rising Tide

The tide grows,
And grows, then,
Crashes against the barricade.
Rocks, sticks, stones all hurled high
And the sound deafens and batters the senses.
But still the old way refuses to yield
Refuses to bend and change for this sea
Yet still the tide presses onwards to its goal.
With wave ripples in all colours of the rainbow
A blue-tinted edge that struggles to keep the flow back.
Blood which is thicker than water will wash across the streets
The great mass of bodies surges back and forwards
Parodying waiting lines for popular products
But such things have become luxuries now
That only the rich and powerful can afford.
Those parasitical political pariahs
Hide behind walls of polycarbonate
Their false words of listening drowned by the storm
As the tide cascades outside again and again.
The wave’s blood still boils
Drinking on careless past mistakes
Of those who were many times drunk on power
The enraged tide now over-quenching their thirst for attention.
They did not act well in the calm before the storm
And now struggle in face of this Tempest.
Against the ebbing tides
Of social needs
There will be
Either change
Or War.