Infrastructure
Steel and iron mesh together.
Stomping upon our resistance
with the insistence of a battering
fist, propaganda shit.
Slipped; fell face first, mud to
be removed from my mouth piece.
A demagogues mosque burns;
intriguing cover ups block out the
sun. Baking swollen sores, growing
while media mind’s infiltrate the
once divine.
Killing fields,
The amber waves of grain,
nourished by the dead’s
remains.
New seeds instantaneously
diseased, by the contaminated
supply of the life offered. We
gorge ourselves in our children’s
images; the chances we had before
the buck was passed, and we relapse
while complacent strands restrain.
Acid tears of rain, disintegrate
the self gratulating temple
constructed for our defective
reflection, of ourselves in them.
The pews fill with a new flock.
Genuflecting, instead of
exploring retrospection, the
collar tightens.
Subservient deviants praise their
own discords, repeated in a 27
letter alphabet of debt. The depth
of youth’s death signed in blood.
Seven digits removed from our
eyes as wealth swells, we’re compelled
to build the echelon opposing our
progression forward. We dream of
a new tomorrow, while today dies,
choked by a future we’ll never
see blossom. Ballots billow in boxes,
casting an ominous shadow whose
origin is the new caste system of
elitism we’re perpetuating into
existence.
American mercantilism, the new
pestilence extending the scourge of
plague, backed by minimum wage.
The promise of liberty ushers in
new slaves, working the killing fields,
climbing purple mountains of
depravity. We stand above their
graves; faceless names etched on the
only sign post they ever even
existed, the silence of tombstones.
What’s dead is what’s dying.
The spirit of denying what you’re
force fed by indoctrinating bodies
wrapped in radio waves, emanating
from a rotting core; discouraging
individualism for a new form of soul
compartmentalism.
The essence of man marginalized
for the profit of very few, the ones
Lady Liberty may never accuse.
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