Democracy…. postmortem
With each fascist idea ignored by the apathetic masses
Every fascist act becomes more and more tolerated, more accepted
Every link in the chain of propaganda strengthened, every lie legitimized
With each corporate-media spin of truth believed
Every child indoctrinated, lashed to the pseudo-righteous’ rapture-dream
Every cog in the government machinery lubricated, every gear oiled
With each step towards the fascist’s ideal scenario
Every freedom becomes debased, every right demeaned
Every hope is dimmed, every dream derailed
With each day we become more and more controlled
Every thought a supplanted subconscious saga
Every viewpoint is skewed toward the fascist’s notions
Truth lost
Propaganda lives
Just like greed it stalks
Lying to the Masses it strives to invade
Truth lost
In glorious times we sang
Of love of land and hearth
Now pressed for soothing hope we cry
For truth lost
apologists
one by one
the callous calls for inhumanity revisited
echo from the swollen lips of ego-driven fools
drooling with anticipation
driven by rage and revenge they heinously hoist hyperbole
as though means can be justified by potentially positive ends
pain and sorrow
ruthless results of godforsaken reality
inhumanely unseen by self-assuring eyes
torture! beyond the pale
they act with no conscience of mind
these foolish souls on their way to Karma
Ordinary Thought
A vision I once concealed
Crept silently, forging it’s way
Against the brutal dawn of patient denial
Unyielding as it spurned retreat
‘Twas snared in a vicious elliptical form
Until at last reaching the bitter-sweet pause
Anchored before me like one last
Hauntingly familiar quest for truth
It lay frozen, all but beaten
Hobbled by the relentless absense of joy
I cried out “please, have mercy on those countless dreams
Which are bound by ordinary thought”
Want Not
Take not thine shelter in another man’s dream
For fate owes no man fot the time lost between
Nine Lines
When threats are high
The squemish sound their horns
They seek shelter form annoyance
Blind to the obvious truth
Luck more than skill feeds unbridled joy
Fate is but a temporary line scribed in the mind
To be cast, erased, and cast again
Until there remains only a faint
Reverence to the original stain
