A Prayer From Purgatory

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    A Prayer From Purgatory

    Strangling the wind pipes leading
    from iron lungs; the lasting breath
    of immortality enticing me, a single shadow
    moving between light and dark, but
    the deepest secrets last longer than the
    memories.
    Short term is wider than the gorge
    cut by a lack of intellect.
    Preventing, paralyzing, paradoxical,
    penetrating preemptive prepositions,
    to cover up the motive, to bury the
    enemy under propaganda, and nuclear
    fission. Mocking the names reflected
    from within cemeteries, and the food line
    stretches for miles.
    Noriega charged with trafficking,
    monopolies growing exponentially,
    this stands the self righteous aim
    of imperialist democracy.
    Mad men of power, purchase the souls
    of soldiers, unenviable tasks, the martyring
    of young men, the masking of
    emotion for the pride of country.

    Retrospect, retrogress;
    a stagnant populous with mouths
    closed, and eyes sewn shut.
    Circumspect, circumstantial;
    the all of nothing provided for proof,
    the fuel of a murderous coup.

    Malignant, the masters spread
    disgust. coated in the blood of foregone
    patriots, a patriarchy builds larger walls
    with blocks of rigormortis bound bodies
    standing as the scaffolding, the structure
    of bones draped in fleshy reminders
    of our mortality, and another falls
    prey to prayers practiced, not
    strengthened by belief, only weakened
    by dogma. The rule of hierarchies
    designed to confuse, isolate, and
    assimilate.
    A weaved parchment of doubt, devotion,
    and ignorant dependence begins to take
    shape, with each inked word inspired
    by a strategic mind inclined to burden even
    further the plight of the innocent, the catastrophe
    of trusting moves made behind iron
    curtains. directed by moguls, ministers
    of malfeasance.

    Prayers practiced, not strengthened
    by belief, weakened by dogmatic principles
    and slaves can’t see the leash.

    Captivating, conspiring, constructing
    popular opinion, the canon of dogmatic
    democratic hypocrites spreading disease
    around the world, while humanity begs for
    relief.
    The leveled restrictions aimed at starving
    revenge from them, the thousands whose
    bellies burst, and American bureaucratic
    eyes smile, bathed in the warmth
    of industrialized western therapeutic
    nuclear fission.
    Fear injected with each missions under
    taking.
    Superstitious, luck, intrigue,
    a party ball of animosity stirs the ingredients
    in a raving mad man’s trough.
    Drinking everlasting idiosyncrasies,
    conspiracies, piracy, because privacy
    is the guilt sewn on his sleeves, his rank
    according to the sleeping thieves
    of ignorant commodities.

    Retrospect, retrogress,
    stagnant populous with mouths closed,
    and eyes sewn shut.
    Circumspect, circumstantial
    the all of nothing provided for proof
    the fuel of a murderous coup.

    Hallucinating, faces push forth
    from behind dark halls. Contorted muscles
    screaming in absolute agony, but muffled
    the dream materializes, and reality
    becomes fantasy.
    The fragments of imagination, erased by
    surrealists escaping through blames placed
    closing door, latched and reinforced
    by unquestioned media’s intention, the
    magic spin masters masturbating pride
    with dry hands, chaffing the delicate skin
    of adolescent peace believers.
    Another pulpit puppet recites the rubbish
    written by the aging hand of Uncle Sam.
    Bringing baffling, badgering platitudes
    through mouthpieces educated in the
    same Eurocentric malicious classrooms as
    you. Only rich greased hands get them
    through. This is your fate, your
    heritage, the might of old men, and
    dirty money.

    Retrospect, retrogress
    stagnant populous with mouths closed,
    and eyes sewn shut.
    Circumspect, circumstantial,
    the all of nothing provided for proof,
    the fuel of a murderous coup.
    And prayers are practiced,
    not strengthened by belief, weakened by
    dogmatic principles, and slaves can’t
    see their leashes.

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    To have great poets there must be great audiences too.

    Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)

    CdeM’s Poems (48)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Amassing 0
    Delicate Demon 0
    Inclined to Define 0
    Blood Omen 0
    Silent Observer 0
    Falling Army Men 0
    A Mocked Indifference 1
    Rigidity US 4
    Infrastructur
    e
    0
    A Cynic? Maybe 1
    Apparitions 0
    A Hush Blushing 0
    A Tiller's Son 1
    A Rung Above Poverty 0
    Sangreal 1
    Vague Fatality 3
    Empty Rhetoric 5
    Immolation 2
    Dancing 1
    Not For the Apathetic 8
    Aristocracy 6
    Always Objecting 3
    Evolution Involves Evolving 1
    Gambling Man 3
    Minions 2
    Heretical Fingerprints 5
    A Prayer From Purgatory 1
    Endearing Metaphor 0
    A Crown of Royalty 1
    Separated Angst 1
    Crucible 0
    The March 2
    Peace As I See It 1
    Restless, Voiceless, Spirits 8
    "One More Rogue Nation" 1
    Roman-iacs 0
    Wrong Before One was Right 0
    Unchanged, unbiased, and focused 1
    My 5
    SIfJ 2
    Communism 0
    Greatest Revolutionary 1
    Scholastic 0
    Blood Omen 1
    How This Works 2
    Mutiny or Monotony 1
    Revolutiionar
    y Theory
    0
    Seamless 5