If words are cheap, what is the cost of a story?
A picture is worth one thousand words,
what does that make your portrait now?
What is a life, a legend, glory, an allegory?
What does the weight of a false accusation truly allow?
If talk is cheap, what are words worth?
How much sense... for those ticking keys?
How many times will it cost to explain only once,
that the consequences are relentless, once unlocked
you can't close your mouth again, nothing taken lightly is free
nothing you give is given in vain, your observations laid out and plain
all under the scrutiny of the next generation of police
they promise you ease of living, no offense, just justice and just peace
Then with that big red rubber stamp of a grin
does the true work begin,
no, no, no!
You do not overthrow your fascists wolf-skins for these sheepdogs, I refuse!
Lobotomize me, roboticize me! I refuse!
Censor my eyes, I can't see the use!
Their propaganda, all is planned-to
take apart a microscopic crack in the legs that take a stand-the
generation who will bear the ashes and trashes and barren-earth gashes
and the morally bankrupt hidden blackmail-blackbox-blacksite-cash-in-stashes
I vote true anarchy in a whirlwind of scared and confused, disenfranchised cries
all that was old no longer stands, burn it down and raze their alarms to meet fresh eyes
whose attention is sharper and whose wits do not harp-or linger on attracting flies
when they speak it is common, to the point and in union, without comical bickering, backstabbing or lies
whose council is one of Utopian ideal, in that it exists only in this Anarcho-Paradise
where nothing they say matters, nobody listens, and there is no order, for if you pause you do not survive
and Nothing is all you are while alive and nobody feels nothing when Nothing dies
it's not like pandemic or fire, riots or dissent, global or local could paint a place into a corner like that though
armed to the teeth, doctors stand back, morgues stand by
Civil unrest, I hereby diagnose the Northern United States with Insomnia
I've been there
what is the continental equivalent to hallucinations, mood swings, weight loss and blacking out?
Civil discourse? I've heard some bad jokes, I love em, but that one's the worst
talk on your stages, your pages, your backseats and square icons
you throw spears from crumbling platforms, unable to hit one another and babble on
when in person the magic of active threats turned, too-soon, too tragic
is becoming lethargic, more shock, more bodies, a better tactic
humankind doesn't deserve its own environment, we're toxic
why can't we all just shut up and stay at home sick, oh
****.
The wealthiest opinions buy their silver spoons before their birth
with all their mercury they speed to heights, and never reach their worth
all the talk they do is quite a feat, indeed!
For, you see it comes from a slit in their neck and both sides of their mouth,
while the noise made, like pickpocketing hands' slides into docile minds with greed
empty, nimble, unnoticed and plucking chain and coin and bead
the richest tongues would rob the rest of roots for their baby to have but a seed.
write
please read and enjoy
