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Oct 2010
Preach the way to live;
how much more should we give?

This sermon fed on lies will be behind your demise;
a loss to the reprise of fading disputes,
uniforms and suits dragging us away
from our dreamt pursuits.

Pulling up buried roots, yet still convert new recruits.
It makes sense naught, perhaps I’m dense,
or better yet, you simply recoil in defense
at the wrongs humans allow to commence,
but there’s a slip on your grip of suspense
for the boredom is so **** immense
and still in rolls the chunked cents
with our thoughts as expense.

Proclaiming yourself lyrical, it’s hysterical;
in truth, you’re nothing more than satirical
of an industrial percent you so vainly represent,
******* about those you resent with a dubbed accent;
you’re long past the extent of accepted discontent;
**** on your consent to understand torment.

Now dig deep into your thesaurus;
again, it’s time for that written chorus,
day through day saying the same old thing,
Benjamin controlling you by a string;
to the table nothing new you bring,
just over and over again ******* us
with your pseudo-cynical sting.
decompoetry
Written by
decompoetry
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   D Conors
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