Power is indeed a corruptive force,
Through all of mankind’s history
This has always been true.
Emperors, Kings, Potentates,
Popes, Presidents and Despots too.

Gathering near the Throne are the
Eager Courtier leeches reaching to
touch the anointed one’s robe.
Declaring their undying loyalty,
In the process selling their souls.
Their rewards, a speck of personal
power, Castles and more riches of gold.

Like their Master, the entitled ones
will lie and cheat, while ignoring
The principals of right and good.
Believing “Decency” is but a poor
man’s word, never uttered within
the hearing of their Ruler.
Truth never a considered artifact of
his desired absolute corrupt power.

To the Ruler the slaves, serfs, the
little common people matter not,
but to serve him and his enablers.
He and his power elite will start
needless wars, or offer up sacrificial
lambs, for deportation all to distract
the unrest of the little people.

They will suppress human rights,
free speech and defame, banish
or imprison their detractors, ignore
our laws and our constitution, tread
on our flag and urinate on our history.

Their smiles and lies are all merely smoke
and mirrors to conceal, their controlling
agendas of limitless personal greed.

Telling us it's all for our own good and
will make our lives and nation great again.
From ancient times down to today this
egomaniacal cycle and agenda repeats.
Kingdoms and Nations have perished
From this kind of poisonous corruption.
Needless to say, it will happen again.
It seems that it already is.

Unless this poem is too obtuse, We all
must endeavor to change our history
to come. Stand up and speak out,
march in the streets, if we must,
defiantly stand our ground!

This is our nations new Ides of March.
It seems we now have our own Julius
Caesar, may he go the way of the other.

Is it really
Out in space
Or a rendering
Looking to be
In a place...
I will not apologize
For the moon
Distracting me

what is in that bag in the car?

you mean the brown paper bag from the bakers?

yes.

well there are his clean pants and his socks.

and

the leaflet about the manchester ship canal

you wanted.

also is a light bulb.

do you remember the electrician advised her of the peculiar property

of bulbs, well

she gave me a bag of the discarded ones

which all worked.

anyhow, one is a small ***** in and does not fit my lights here.

it will do for the light in my bedroom at yours.

thankyou. i will put it in the bedside drawer.

yes. that is what i thought too.

i hope you get to go on the manchester

ship canal.

Other roots
Like phantoms
Born of saltwater

Other roots
Water and sky
Mirrors

Other roots
From wealth to nothingness
Where the forest is

Here take root
Leave the sea behind
Other roots

(The things I ask of myself while sitting in the dark)

I shoulder the borders of everything . . .
of the nothingness trapped inside the air . . . is Atlas crushed ?

All the holy mole of mountains that I've stumbled over , am I saying I never really cared ?

The indentations of life ,
the craters that I plunge carelessly into . . . can I crawl my way back out ?

That sentence in the book of life ignored returns , was it just to haunt me . . .
or is it a reaping of the sorrow that I chose to sew ?

A toxic attitude , from the grapes of wrath , has it aged well in the bottles of time  . . . do I keep drinking up the past ?

Twisting around it's not the worthy that I find

Yet . . .

A finite year of imperfection it surely was
that indeed .