Today and Tomorrow there is nothing
for the People, but everything for the Poet.
fiery buildings litter our papers
and politicians of plastic make the rules
everyday grows dim as the sun rises higher.
A dusting of grim grey has begun to build
upon the faces of all,
Everyone crying out for peace and love,
Everyone preaching conspiracy and the end of the World.
Some people cling to a god, one that, according to a recent survey,
they probably know nothing about.
Others cling to the things they’ve acquired, a wife, 2.5 children,
a three-bed-two-bath house in the suburbs, twenty minutes from the city.
The poets cling to their pens, burying themselves in paper.
Hoping if they dig deep enough they’ll reach the bottom of despair,
to find the meaning.
But, the buildings are still on fire,
the politicians still plastic,
no matter the meaning, the grey is still growing,
building walls and hate out of grim grey that has swallowed
us all whole.