Ridiculously Rote Rhetoric

Unnamed Politicians!

Can you perceive the irony,

As you march in this parade,

On this public highway,

Closed today by state police,

Between county fire trucks,

And city rescue squads,

Past these public schools,

All the while waving

Your banners proudly claiming,

“I Fight Socialism”?

Stuck in the Middle with Him

Three oh one point nine!

Broadcast on all the networks.

Label it Fake News

And some will eat that sandwich

Unaware its their last meal.

Our neighbors may, even yet,

Construct and pay for his great wall

If only to shut him in.

And could you blame them?

Hopefully, in time

When we wake up and appeal

For them to let us exit

They will show us charity

Alien to our leader!

On The Borderline Again

His smarmy tongue waggles,
weaving glowing gossamers, clouding hearts and minds
with mists of glittering unreason.

His garbled glossolalia

explains inexplicable,

defends indefensible,

justifies vast injustices.

Before his words, miasmas
of fecund decay shift,
begins to resemble aromas
of lavender and roses.

Venomously,

crass caresses

of slimy snake oil

conceal cuts of serrated steel.

Hope and reason succumbs
to resignation and despair.
Luminous hope drowns struggling
in seas of gilded sludge.

As growing thick dark shrouds

envelop all, he pauses,

draws breath, smiles.

In that instant his spells shatter!

Plug your ears, Ulysses!
There are no second chances.

Remember Humility!

Why should I curb my caustic tongue

When seeing all the damage done

By all your fears and monstrous greed

Harming those in dire need?

All so you can gather more

To bank away so far off-shore

Lest someone else, who has a soul

Exact from you too high a toll

Jeopardizing some distant dream

In which you finally become the cream

Rising high atop the rest

Like life is just some kind of test

To judge just who the worthy are

For us to worship from afar?

Now listen here! You’re just man!

I’ll never be your fawning fan

Nor will I censor bitter word

When faced with statement so absurd

That none with eyes and open mind

Could, therein, some logic find.

And if, by chance, you take offense 

Because I choose to look for sense,

Before you sigh, express lament

About the “fools” you represent,

Remember you’re no mighty king 

Unto whom we peasants sing,

It’s your desire, oh so fervent

To be elected, OUR public servant!

Unto the Faithless Steward

Greedy heart blinds eyes,
base desires cloud thinking,
thus betraying dreams
and petty machinations
that have long blighted your soul.

Honor, long absent,
now regarded with disdain,
no longer offers
salvation’s outstretched hand,
but only retribution.

When your fantasy
lies amid smoking ruin,
where vain desire
and bold ego once held sway,
you may blame none but yourself!

To thine own self be true!

Today we pay the butcher’s bill
for what Deceiver names
a moment’s indiscretion.
But Honor takes the higher ground
and speaks harsh truth to Ego,
fixing his attention.

For Honor knows Deceiver’s ways
And how he plays to Ego’s
hope for recognition.
And truth be told, the event, we know
was part of ancient pattern not
bred in isolation.

Grok the message we’re receiving?
It doesn’t bear repeating!

Who aspires to be the man:

Who aspires to be the man 

Who preaches a lifetime of stewardship 

at the top of his lungs yet 

leaves behind a hollow legacy? 

 Who offers his love a lifetime of heart felt care 

yet delivers only hollow promises? 

Who professes eternal love with silken tongue 

yet provides only a void 

from the bottom of his hollow heart?