Sitting Here Dissenting All Forms Of Gov’t

Sitting here dissenting all forms of gov’t
Looking for answers in these coffee grounds
Uncovering more & more hatred, with less hope
These political ovations do nothing but compound

Society has gone astray, Jesus take the wheel
We’re all being watched by a perched black bird
Incoherent shrieks & mumbles of “Nevermore”
Universities stacked with all the quotes they misheard

Where are the heroes to protect democracy of the republic
In the wake of fraudulent saints & a presidential pretender
We must devise a prophecy to overtake our future
Lady Liberty’s hem is ablaze; with no elder statesmen to defend her

We’re led by fools, fractures & frauds
Finding ourselves at crossroads armed like Checkpoint Charlie
History won’t be kind to the weak or evil all the same
Needing a guardian like Justice Ginsburg on a Harley

I’m raising a small army of Lost Girls
Feminist soldiers marching – in all but the name
Seeking love, peace & equality for all the people
Hindering harmony will leave you squarely to blame

We all have our differing loyalties
But truth will prevail when time comes to an end
Our trials will be but mere footnotes to antiquity
Faceless angels guiding youth; they shall forever be a friend

Drinking Black Coffee Out Of Delta Cups

Drinking black coffee out of Delta cups
The cheap seats listening to Empire Burlesque
Mixed metaphors crawling in the night
Still pondering why a raven is like a writing desk

Dislodged tea parties & cries of Nevermore
The world swiftly swirling all around me
Reducing myself into my words
Hiding now within punctuation & necessity

Unsure of our place in time
Triangulations are stretch marks on the soul
Society wants me to be all shiny
But more often than not, I’m tired & dull

Where do we find our inspirations
The formulations upon our existence
Personalities discarded to the rubbish pile
Pushing us further away within time & distance

Transparent Dresses Hanging In The Mud Room

Photo by Fidel Hajj on Pexels.com

Transparent dresses hanging in the mud room
Saran-Wrapped for mild protection
Eyes closed to foreign tales
Tempered thoughts of stifled affection

Painted prose with regurgitated eyes
Our dreams left choking on the floor
Scribbling beliefs with thick gouges
Manufactured truth with cries of Nevermore

Redundant weight of classical heroes
Forcing us into bastardized Groupthink
Yet my mind still wanders to her opaque passion
Chasing her dragon with endless ink