The Men on the Hill, from Garrett Baldwin
Last day at my office, and I'm cleaning out files… I found this.
It's the epilogue to my first novel, which still sits in LA unpublished over an argument on the name of a character. It's about the failure of our leadership. It's been about seven years since I last read this… and I get the sense it's more true today than when it was first scribbled during a vodka-induced rant across a bar napkin somewhere in the Battery of Manhattan…
Thought I'd share…
The Men on the Hill
at the set of the star, when each pass down Our Hill
to a plate ever gamely and cup overfilled
the men, they forget, the source of their fare
it was those in small town where cupboards grow bare
now ignored to provide allies’ weight in pork
they carve with the tongue, to drive us to forks
there are men on the Hill, who sneak and conspire
to cohort with Brutus and lead to new choir
there are men on the Hill, denying their fault
as they deepen the wounds and scourge them with salt
there are men on the Hill, not just one, nor one team
confuse his ambition with one country’s dream
a cry comes each voice, are there men on this hill
to stand by the cupboard, risk politic killed
you are safe on this Hill, for the process is rare,
that another ascend to relinquish your chair
on the hill is a hush – now a cast of the blame
now a finger is wagged, to preserve masters’ fame
but fall to the side, when the masses erupt
for power is fickle as power corrupts
are there men on the Hill? each street cries fervent
to answer this call as public servant
are there men on the Hill, stand up if you will
a hush…
a hush…
there’s no man on Our Hill.