Unhonorable Discharge

It's times like these loyalties,
I feel, are a waste of time.
A trusted friend once said to me,
"Honor is in the dollar kid."

Once spoken, it is hard to retract
a statement so bold and unbecoming.
Though he often blurted random
movie quotes - a localized version

of tourette syndrome if you will.
It probably took an obscure
pathway in the brain to vomit
such vile wordplay from his lips.

There is no green in my wallet;
it must mean I am honorless,
though to pay homage to anything
these days would be akin

to shooting fish in a barrel.
What does one worship when
the world respectfully declines
to honor the nature of humanity?

I guess he had it right:
a greenback, gotta get that paper,
bling bling.  Of course in order
to get that bling today it requires

the use of unhonorable tactics;
once obtained you may buy
your way in to life—to humanity.
What then becomes of those

who knelt down and hoisted you
on their shoulders to ascend
in rank and stature?  In these times
we move backwards instead of forwards

to measure the character of a man.
Those coming from the bottom pay
their loyalty to those who once
helped to rise them above, a gilded

and infectious way to view the workings
of the world.  As we rise, like Christ
on the cross, to be resurrected at the top,
we are reluctant to feel anything but disgust.

We spit the world back out, dry heave
until the violent entrails of our
becoming make their final escape
from within us.  Herein lies

the loyalty.  The loyalty of upchuck;
to feast on the famine and regurgitate
the fawn.  An honorable discharge
to the underdogs who managed to shine.