Friday, February 20, 2015

The World, His Ashtray

Where truth fears to wander, deception is king
And there the oppresséd are kissing the ring
of those whose malfeasance renders obscure
all notions of fairness, their wickedness pure
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men 
can’t make us trust in the bankers again
While Halogen’s dutifully slaying the dragon 
the rest of us load all our stuff on the wagon

My loved ones have vanished or else they lie bleeding. 
My larynx rebels at the thought of more pleading.
Black but quite arid, the clouds we’ve been seeding. 
This ground once was hallowed, but now needs some weeding.

He targets the helpless and makes them desire
what they’ll never own. The insatiable fire
that levels his palace to Halogen’s shocking.
His coffers need looting. His priest needs defrocking
Success has many parents, yo, but failure is an orphan
I exercise all day and night, but where are the endorphins?

Mobile home, mobile home, please spring no leaks. 
We’ve rested so fitfully these past few weeks.
The fruit we’ve been poaching, defiant, stays green. 
Our bellies are growling, our placards unseen.
All the dead’s numbers, on parchment emboss ‘em. 
Beauty’s not sleeping, but just playing possum.
The posses are restless and lusting for blood. 
The rest of us must be content in the mud.

Fasten your seatbelt. Assume the position. 
Don’t be naïve. Never count on contrition.
From those who’ve made billions on millions going broke.
Halogen’s wearing his new ermine cloak.
The world is his ashtray. It’s his to defile. 
On the prettiest summits, encounter a pile
Of filters from cigarettes Halogen’s smoked. 
Our anger boils over. The fire’s been stoked.

Halogen Hallogen, wither thy mount?
You’ve mounted so many it’s hard to keep count
You’re pierced them so deeply with your heavy sword
One might have expected by now you’d be bored.
Virility oozes from you just like sweat.
One mentions your name and his nieces get wet.
If charisma were water we’d all be submerged.
The locks have been changed and the dissidents purged.

1 comment:

  1. "The world is his ashtray. It's his to defile." god, what a perfect metaphor.