#dotard
Whitewashed fences mark
the division of shallow lines
of demarcation marring a bitter plain
Truth that too can be seen
as a balance with bruised knees
whispering prayers of bent supplication
Looking for a smile seen in clouds
of judgment and blurred hazes
The drum beats of life and echoes still,
in cracked addicted alleys of fairness
gone awry with a broken wheel
spinning on a loom of time
Native pains and naive indiscretions inexcusable, earth telling a compelling
tale if you can dig your hand in the dirt
Seeking through the mire for truth
and tales long since buried in the sands
of time, which whisk away history,
books burned with lies full of distaste
Imprinted on impressionable minds
like miscreant clones sprung
from fanatical factories
Indoctrinated with false education
and breeding still more hate, echoing,
listening to the heartstrings playing
a concerto of truth, an aria of sad realism
A beating of a drum
that has long since been silenced
by an oppressive, regressive hand
These times give me fear when courage
is what is needed most, post haste
Hate seems to be in such a fury
hurrying at a madman's pace.
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 9:01 PM UTC
I
The Rocket-man and the Dotard went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some ego, and plenty of hardblow,
Wrapped up in a billion dollar note.
The Dotard picked up his glass of coke,
And barked to a small guitar,
'O what a ***** A ***** a joke,
O What a ***** you are,
You are,
You are!
O What a ***** you are!'
II
RM said to the Dotard, 'You massive *******
You soundeth just like a dog!
O let us send nukes, no need for the troops:
Turn the world into rubble and fog.'
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Rhetoric grows
And there in a wood the 20th century stood
With a tear at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a tear at the end of his nose.
III
'20th C, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your compassion and knowledge and learning?'
'Compassion' said he? 'Get down on one knee.'
But neither could bow to the world’s yearning
They instructed their slaves, to send Hbombs in waves
Their anger writ large with aplomb
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the bomb,
The bomb,
The bomb,
They danced by the light of the bomb.
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 5:46 AM UTC