nothing left of the dream cracks in the rampart have let truth’s darkness overwhelm the dim light of national myths now the broken sharp edges of reality protrude into each day severing hope from well-tutored promises
words offered before burials or the hearts have stopped beating words on any other occasions might have raised the dead like the widow’s son at nain but these words with angelic tones are political sound bites that echo through polished marble hallways hallways that are the only grave markers and eulogies these homeless will ever have such concerned words just dry leaves crushed beneath the feet of inhumanity dust without life or life giving mere moments of fleeting guilt insincere regrets for inaction offered before the graves are dug or the bodies are even cold
a democracy fed a steady diet of misinformation soon becomes immune to the truth the guilty are found innocent the cruel are given the rule and the virus of fascism soon invades the entire body of the nation
you nod
your head
when
we speak
but
you don’t hear us
that
painful look
of
understanding
on
your face
won’t
be
your saving grace
it
just shows
that
how
we speak
makes you
believe
you know
something about us
fictitious facts
drawn
from all those
historical
stereotypes
but
you
don’t know
us
the subdued sounds
of
our voices
conceal much
and
only
reveal
what
we wish
to be seen
verbal
camouflage
masking out
the sound
of
a fuse
that’s
already
been
lit
once a vibrant nation now a host for aggressive parasitic personas that devour the salutary substance of freedom creeping and strangling until freedom’s death leaving hollow promises for our children
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
a sliding scale from poisonous politeness to grand larceny nations unwilling to look into their own mirror for fear the reflection will show their true self the deep festering scars of injustice the blood shot eyes of drunken power politics and the cancerous rotting flesh of freedom so it’s been decided to replace all the mirrors with hand painted mythical portraits of nonexistent nations found only in panglossian pages of history
noticed quickly
seats
carefully rearranged
filling in
the blank spot
left
by a departure
but
everyone stood
none
of the guests
spoke a word
confused
by
the obvious
where
to sit
everyone
had assigned seats before
claiming a new spot
without guidelines
required
realignment
of
their thinking
asserting their beliefs
about
their position
in
life
what if someone
disapproved
of their selection
might that not lead
to another departure
perhaps
their own
might it best be
to just stand
swaying back and forth
though
i’m not at liberty
to
provide
any details
a
word
of
caution
might
be appropriate
the package
of
perks
given to you
as
part
of
your
induced
birthright
owing
to your
race
should be carried
quite
carefully these days
there are stories
not
of robbers
that
you’ve been
taught and told
to
fear
but
rather
those pretending
to be
your brothers
the ones
carrying
stones
hidden behind
their
veil
of
lies
what’s
before us
seems less
clear
the details
like
the truth
cannot be
distinguished
from
what
is hidden
in
lies’ shadows
those
words
between
the words
said
that are
so easily confused
with
reality
for
most disciples
of
tykhe
desire
that
their
beliefs
are
the gospel truth
though
most often
they
are not
rather
they’re
a convenient tool
for
political salesmen
to use
to
sell their snake oils
seems like
carnivals
have not
really
gone
out of style
in
the political circus
public schmucks
continue
to toss
balls of dollars
at
leaded kewpie dolls
that only fall
when
the peddler’s bank account
has reached
a stage
of
overflowing
or
the poor sap
is
about
to walk
away
before
their pockets
have been
fleeced
completely
to
fund
an undeserved
retirement
for
personal
public
service
at
which point
the only one
needing
a white cane
is
the public
Read Between the Minds 