once baptized
with time
all
previous crimes
are to be forgotten
offenses of morality
are
washed away
and
we are encouraged
to
forgive
forgiveness
society’s masquerade
the transubstantiation
of
immoral acts
into
the divine law
of
man
so
unjust deaths
from
prejudice
religious intolerance
and
corporate profit taking
are to be seen
as
purified
by
the passage of time
politicos say
we must
forget
transgressions
in order
to move forward
but
forgiveness
is impossible
when
standing
among
the graves
of those
who died
for
the illusion
of
justice
ain’t nothing new
‘bout
the way
we’re treating vets
after
the
so-called
revolutionary war
our
first civil war
profiteers
thanked vets
by stealing
the land they had
defended
with
their lives
leaving them
penniless
and
homeless
been that way
with profiteers
every since
oh some
people have
stepped up
recently
to help
but
those corporations
and
individuals
who’ve really profited
from
their service
and
lives lost
haven’t done
a damn thing
‘cept to say
thank you for your service
and
congress
only does
what they’re
forced to do
so many vets
are right where
the first
patriot soldiers were
with
no place to sleep
no meals to eat
and
no meds to suppress
the nightmares
of
blood and body parts
all they get
is an overdose
of
police
those
desk jockeys
that didn’t see
combat
so
do keep
your sorry ass
thank you for your service
till some
real help
is offered
broken instruments
of
existence
promises
of
peace
and
equality
all
i see
is
a hole
in
the wall
that’s been there
for
years
nothing’s changed
the
murdered souls
never are
given
justice
oh
there’s
always
a flurry of words
rebranded promises
wheeled out
for
the occasion
whether it be
a murdered journalist
or
some child waif
at
the border
whose
death
was
as premeditated
as
most social crimes
crimes
where lives
are
placed
into a penny slot machine
of
foreign
and
corporate diplomacy
always
a simple routine
where
negotiators
put the pennies in
pull down
the handle
of
greed
and
wait to see
if there’s
a payoff
for
those
already
overweight
with
wealth
for centuries
it
moved throughout
the world’s
gardens
a mythical creature
whose
movements
and
bright colored skin
inspired
dreams
of
freedom
and
strength
but
the underbelly
revealed
it
was propelled
by
hate
and
greed
and
it was often
found
to be
quite willing
to
consume
its own
offsprings
the edges
of
the dream
have frayed
the finely
woven stories
of
youth
have
not
held up
over time
the rough surfaces
of
reality
have worn away
the protective
layers
of
myths
and
the religious strands
of
those
gospel weavers
and
preachers
who
now stand
indistinct
from
the sinners
they
warned
us
of
their robes
now bare
clear marks
of
truth’s whip
and
their hands
are dirtied
from
the coins
gathered
from
the temple floor
money changers
now
tell weavers
how
to run
the looms
Read Between the Minds 