I have words
   good words
      all the best words
         they come out of me
      in fountains
   cascading
waterfall words
   flushing away doubt
      over the edge
         over the precipice
      I speak
   falling words
splashing words
   drowning words
      there are rocks at the bottom
         broken bones
            buried treasure
               known unknowns
            wrapped in reedy words
         left here by thrill seekers
     terrorists, murderers      
   rapists
jumping off cliffs
   swimming over rivers
climbing the walls that I built
   I am a great builder, you see
      but it's not all about me and my words
   I have questions too
Why do the bubbles breathe when I can't?
   Is this light refracted a mirror of the dark?
      Is there such a thing as a grindelow?
         Can't we stop them?
           What is this weight
              pulling me down
                Can I swim?
              Will I drown if I don't win?
            Don't look too closely
       for I don't know anything
   I never did
Let me back in
   I always win
     You'll be sorry
         You will be sorry
     all that will be left
   is a scorched blonde wig
a scorched earth
   a pile of empty emperors clothes
      and legislated words
         captured in email,
            cooked until raw
         served over the body politic
      burnt and broken by the fall
    of ***** grabbing brawlers
  drowned and forgotten in a furore
of water hurtling towards the forgetful sea
   and it's endless tides will bring the bodies back to shore
won't wash away the misdeeds, you don't know that half of it
you will never be clean
  But not me
    I am very rich you see
       I will float away on an endless tide
         of empty promises
            corporate endorsements
               and established exploitations
                  leaving only the roaring echo of the flood
               in which all your words
            all your worthless worlds
         were washed away
      so ask yourself
  on voting day
   who do you hate less?
   who do you hate more?
will it always be this way?

Politics is a group of "respected" adults
Arguing...
Whining...
Insulting each other
Like children in a park

And yet......

We let them run our countries

We are the States of Hypocrisy
We are the States of Democracy

Well Outsmart
Well pull the people a part
Well rot their hearts
Because they are a piece of art

They are tacked
They are tracked

But what if they met their pride
the art of the most abstract?
Our only way to counteract
Is to divide
and extract

If you are wise, you will figure out that Democracy is just a piece of *******
we look up to these corrupt leaders for answers to all our questions
But yet, People are out there suffering and giving there lives for men in politics
We put these skinny people in power
and when they become fat, they take away our human rights
And feed the uneducated with their dirt
These leaders love to watch us fight and never actually work
Democracy is a term they use to disguise their hypocritsey
We are their primary producers
and they are our secondary consumers
They depend on us
They are at the top of this disgusting food chain that brought poverty to existence
But still They Ignore us
We also have a dazed state of mind
because we are scared of man made weapons and guns
We gave these Skinny people Authority
and when they become fat, they take away our dignity
People open your eyes
"World War Three lives in My Poetry!!!"

In light of all the gun violence in the USA,
I'd prefer my democracy unleaded.

Under the fists of steel
I wonder
If we’ll flutter
Like butterflies
Trapped under the steel thumb
Of the man who vowed to save us

Like Pavlov’s dog
Would the butterflies
Grow steel wings
Just so that they could survive?

Under the fists of steel
I wonder
If we’ll cower
Like an apprehended child
Afraid
Of a sin we did not commit

Would it be right
To call blind disobedience
Democracy?

A placebo effect
From our fears and doubts
The butterflies,
Despite the burden
Of the additional weight,
See the steel wings
As a cure

Because instead of
The scream-filled halls
We heard silence,
Ordered by the man
Who dared to say he’d save us,
And called it peace