nmyworld

Scores of prayer
Real saviors ignored
One more layer
Upon imaginary core
Poor kids starve
Die by the drove
Layers sit uncarved
God’s lie-filled grove

Ballots cast for more of the same
Some hold out for fresher choices
New villains, enemies of “change”
Especially to those who lose

They march to the beat of a tired drum
Destroying their voices in the name of change
Down the bloody streets they roam
Gathering forces and rending apart dissenters
Too backward to continue breathing
Contaminating their precious air with bloody gasps
House to house they bring down the walls
Tearing down the old to build up the new
In the midst of destruction and change
The walls go back up and the streets are washed
Survivors unite against the good and bad
And while society is rebuilding the same houses
On the same plots on the same roads in the same towns
Difference is only what the Change Nazis allow
Fervor and reaction polarizes brother and sister
And we prepare ourselves for more “change”
Killing in the name of conservative collectivism
But at least we support change, right?

The culture of vanity
Paternal will projections
One more drop of fame
Because we let it fall
Proud crowds praise
For future narcissism
Can say “I was there”
When we ignore issues
And focus on ourselves
Racist motivations
Bourgeois intentions

The soulless streets
Black and red pavement
Yellow lines where they stand
Gun barrels glow in either hand
Trained sights on their brothers
Sisters watching from either sidewalk
Dividing their lives and their futures
Setting up the failure
That shadows their brothers

Freedom calls to us
From the depths of hell
Outside of human irrationality
Easily wrenched by the nameless
And we try to pass blame
One of our own the culprit
To end would mean despotism
And to be unfree again

Next up to plate
Another innocent society
Consumed with a morbid gait
Consuming sans sobriety
Cultural wasteland wake
Too much to abate
For if their luxuries you take
Find yourself next to plate

“Confession frees, but power reduces one to silence; the truth does not belong to the order of power, but shares an original affinity with freedom: traditional themes in philosophy, which a ‘political history of truth’ would have to overturn by showing that truth is not by nature free — nor error servile — but that its production is thoroughly imbued with relations of power.”

Michel Foucault, A History of Sexuality Volume 1: An Introduction, 60.

As the cold blankets the night
Fresh faces fill the arena
The old warriors impart their wisdom
So we can fly higher at dawn

A rainbow in the dark
Exists only in your mind
So you don’t have to think