Who has the time to make up lies Day after day Of having your space invaded Your homes barged into by strangers with guns The best of them leaving you alive after They’re done With their operation, the laughter Mocking your indignities As if each indignity weren’t mockery enough Day after day Rifles shoved in your face That’s a good day The smell of spent cartridges mixes poorly with insults Shoot to cripple! Checkpoints like gates to hell From hell to hell But if you dive, you gain the memory of hitting asphalt As you bleed to death Day after day Of crying at funerals That often become cause for more funerals For some dead may not be mourned, they say Someone said there’s no PTSD beacuse the trauma has no post No post left standing to lean on And then when the infection climaxes in a festering boil It bursts and the pus flows And that pathetic inflammatory response Begets a brand of cowardice only the coward knows So, who has the time to make up lies When they can barely stay alive
Archives for October 2023
Current Events
The truth is rare Just like the air It’s there for you to breathe But lies are dust Begriming trust To thrive upon deceit Know lies will settle Like dirt and metal Their end is near and certain And when they’re gone The truth will dawn Before the final curtain
Different
You can’t compare the state of them who die to live forever With that of them who live to find their deaths Each stark reminder of a dark delusion they’d been clever To think that they could sell their souls for breaths You just can’t
Still
Bide impostor soul Faking it at every turn Trying hard to please That you won’t have to burn Roses is your garden Lush and fragrant newly born Mind the petal falls And praise defending thorn