Falling in love is like walking in electric rain. Tingles as the first few drops gently touch your skin, the tingles growing in intensity as the rain increases in volume and velocity, until you are stark raving mad in love. Age is no barrier. Young, old, rich, poor. We have all been there. We have all walked joyously into the electric rain. But electric rain sometimes produces not love of another person, but love of an ideology, and when it does the stricken is driven stark raving mad, not with love but with hatred for all who are not similarly stricken. Such are the denizens of the madhouse called the Democratic Party of today. Their madness is historically short term, as with a sharp summer squall, but the impact is long term, as with a mountain snow pack. The violent madness of Black Lives Matter and the insane madness of 72 genders will be short lived, but will cast a lasting shadow on our culture, to be erased only by time as the last of the stricken pass peacefully or violently into the grave.

How gently does the falling rain
Anoint the leftist brow
Causing angst and joyous pain
As madness will allow
The madness pours from every pore
In rage at the machine
Free speech is such a sucking bore
White privilege wiped clean
Identity, diversity
But think only one way
As profs at university
Say Marx is cool today
The leftist rage is full of hate
For all whom they despise
Who speak the truth they will berate
And curse their lying eyes
But love is like a growing child
Who learns a bit each day
And saves those lessons to be filed
And treasured, put away
The haters write their hate with chalk
Erased in writhing pain
While love is like a joyous walk
In soft electric rain