a den of thieves…

life's garment

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

just some old news…

just some old news

breaking news
cold
blooded murder
under
confusion’s cover
government sanctioned
hate crime
just
another
reporter’s assassination
to
be
added to
the
weekly homicide
statistics
these data
will be collated
and
used to prepare
a monthly report
names
family affiliations
and
life history
of
victims
will be stripped away
for
the sake
of
economy
final results
will be
used
for
an annual report
initial analysis suggests
that
each death
has eroded
freedom
and
democracy
bringing
each
to the brink
of
extinction
when
the final report
is approved
by
committee
a summary
will be printed
and
distributed
to
concerned parties
or
converted to
a digital format
breaking news
citizens
are outraged
with
increases
in
the cost
of
living

where were you when the lights went off…

where were you when the lights went out

save your platitudes
there’ll be no raising the dead
from hope’s shallow grave
your words are dead dry flowers
on humanity’s warm blood
something to make you feel good
your words cannot heal
bloodied wounds of human flesh
nor suture the souls
ripped apart by promises
to support democracy
but bookkeepers rule the roost
so as often said
save your breath for future lies
reach into your purse
and place some copper pennies
on the eyes of all those who
trusted in your empty words

bicameral…

bicameral

deserted chambers
the walls destroyed from within
believe in nothing
for traitors are everywhere
they’ll say some comforting words
while stealing your life’s freedom

 

 

so where’s the surprise…

ain't nothing new

there ain’t nothing new
slave owners’ mentality
fills the nation’s veins
flowing to every corner
with its poisonous future

washington escort service…

washington escort service

high priced prostitutes
willing to shed
their
moral responsibility
to
a nation
for
the drug
of
addictive power
and
financial gain
doing what
their
pimp
moscow mitch
tells them
to
do
even
declaring
that
the emperor’s new
fascist
clothes
are
the height
of
democracy
but
what happens
when
the landscape
is
war-torn
and
there is
nothing left
to
rule over
and
no one
to
subjugate
for that matter
who will
change
the bloody sheets
on
their whorehouse beds

a sudden loss of cabin pressure…

a sudden loss of cabin pressure

what shall we place
on
america’s gravestone
here lies
a nation
aborted
by
its greed
and
intolerance
of
its
own history
or
an unborn promise
made
with its fingers crossed
concealed
behind
a back of hate
and
prejudice
all
the while
scripting words
constituting
a justification
for
continuation
of
an oligarchy
but
with
more than
one
king
a feudal state
with
all the trappings
of
the middle ages

 

 

democracy…

for centuries
the box was guarded
its gilded surface
glowed like gold
in the sunlight
but blackened
when night grasped
the nation
no one knew
its true content
although historians
had contrived
detailed descriptions
of
what
was inside
based upon
archaeological remains
but
in reality
those details
were more myth
than
anything
indeed
one had
to
just
believe
what had been written
and
published
in children’s
indoctrination books
those
who challenged
the faith
were shunned
and
forced to live
within
the narrowest confines
of
the city
or
caged within prisons
to
protect
society
now
one day
after the box
had been dropped
a few observant
people
saw through
the cracks
that
the box
was
empty