Are you pleased
with the capitol
that these corrupt
institutions seized?

Are you happy
with the aftermath
of the blood bath
for which you asked?

How does destruction taste,
is it a bitter brew,
to see those who
you slew
in the name of greed?

Tell me did you need
to seed said chaos
to make us,
so ******* great
by bringing in
more ignorance
and hate?

How do you do
with this ****?
How do you feel
about misfits
who don’t fit
with this society
of war and depravity
in the name
of capitol games
that we now call
progress?

Watch this
and tell me
if you really believe
in the American dream.

It used to be
a very pretty
glass reality
that held all of the
grandeur we saw.

Now we see
sharp shards scattered
as glass figurines break,
leaving prickly parts
to cut and stab,
bleeding the good
and the very bad.

Dreams are demolished
and turned into
razor thin
glass things,
refracting
the reflections of
higher beings.

Fragile feathers
fall slowly down
settling on this
****** ground,
as angels realize
there will be no more
soaring high
in those amazing skies.

The world cracks and breaks
like Humpty Dumpty,
but there are no more
soldiers or horses
to turn this chaos
back into
our former world view.

Crack the skin
see porcelain
bleed lava flows,
hot blood goes
boiling up and out
to singe the stuff
that flops
all about.

Ink splattered hair,
hands clasping
gasping breaths
of pain and despair.

Reality breaks,
her body quakes
with feverish rages
of sickness.

The one who witnessed
all these human tragedies.
Salt pillar people,
small flecks flying in the wind,
those dessert storms of dry death.

Who would buy this
art of pain and destruction,
as we all follow her
breaking down bit by
crumbling bit.

Welcome to the duality,
of love and rage.

See there are two strange
men in me,
a beast,
and a fellow of
morality.

But lately the shadows
are slowly blending.
I’ve been thinking
and in that,
bending
to a new understanding.

There is blind violence,
the exploitation of
at risk populations.
There is bigotry
and blatant acts
of cruelty.

Anger seethes,
cause all it sees
causes an aching,
that turns to longing
for some justice.

Love believes
that we can be better,
but in seeing society’s suffering
is transformed.

Passion and expectation
causes a weird transformation,
turning love and empathy
to anger and outrage.

The beast is moral, in all his heartbreak,
and the moral man becomes the beast
pushing back against more brutal monsters.

What is it
to visit
such explicit
anguish
upon
one
whose family
and nation
has been
vanquished.

To compound
sins of violence
on the bodies of
those who were loved
but no longer
linger on here.

When the carnage comes
on the beat of
wicked war drums
does anyone,
but me
sit around wondering
what all this chaos means.

As shattering screams
follow collapsing buildings,
bringing in nightmares
for years and years.

As the household is demolished
a whole family line finished
in one horrible instance,

what the hell is the purpose
of all of this horribleness?

Even though, I wish it was
the federation that I love
which we lived in,
I know it is more like
the dark empire of oppression
that we exist in.

Instead of,
grand scientific explorations
made to expand
our humanity
with science, philosophy,
art, and poetry
we are subject to
the dark depressing view
of watching the wealthy few
work toward expanding avenues
for their prestige and power
to grow exponentially.

Instead of, refined officers,
like Captain Picard,
we got an army of
dumb storm troopers,
thuggish brutes
of ill-repute
that do not serve
me or you,
but work at the behest
of the E.U
world bank, U.S.
and other United Nation’s
corrupt interests.

So, we rebels few
who dream of being
something new,
who dream of freeing
all of us, and all of you
are ****** to live
in the dark side.

I don’t know how to hunt,
and I am less then adept at fishing.

I cannot fix mechanical stuff
but I’ve mastered the art of *******.

I got a gift for creating laughter.
I’m an awesome singer,
but a sub-par social actor.
I’m an ok artist,
and a masterful writer,
a decent observer,
of human behavior,
and an above average fighter.

So, if this is the end of the world
and you are looking for useful survivors,
I would not pick me first.
Even though, I can keep the mood lighter.

Somebody’s daughter
is standing on the corner,
covered, almost smothered
in several layers of
***** old winter clothing.

She has mastered the art
of begging with carboard pleas
for something, anything to eat,
while stranger’s have mastered
the art of never seeing her.

Further down the avenue
somebody’s son is sharing
the same sick despairing
hunger pains, and ragged wares.

****** features slightly uneven,
but no one is really looking.
No one ever truly sees him.
So, he scratches his brown beard
and plants his feet where
he thinks he might find
someone with a kind
and generous disposition.

Hundreds of cars roll by
in the day to night sky
with only handful
of hands out the window
to offer him
any compassion.

Your life is a loaner,
and being born in
a specific nation
puts you in hoc,
under the scrutiny
of those who control
the weekday work clock,

The same guys who got
all the politicians bought,
well they think they own
the work you’ve shown.

So, you stay all day
and work extra late,
till you are exhausted,
till it takes your health
and your mind,
well you’ve lost it.

You work all week long
and if you’re lucky
they will let you rest
on the weekend.

You do this for your family,
but you barely ever see them.

Till you are no longer breathing,
or you beat the odds and retire,

but you probably won’t.
Most likely you’ll expire
on the job, long after
your heart and soul
vacates that flesh
those working hours stole.