You Didn’t Sell Out, You Bought In

You didn’t sell out, you bought in
At least that’s what you regurgitate
But you, yourself, are a cog in the machine
Grinding out this state sponsored hate
You speak of crying in the streets
Heartbroken your flavor of evil didn’t win
But it’s a system of corruption throughout
With each career politician speaking the sin
Where did all our heroes & leaders go
Driven out as the bureaucracy multiplies
Buried the truth in all that paperwork
We’re doomed unless the people rise
Against these manufactured lies

& So I Taught Myself

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& so I taught myself
Digging deep into classical books
Borrowing from their bright words
Until some knowledge overtook

Then I broke free of their grip
Slicing my own path & charging off
I sit by the fire, gathering my wits
I block you out – you merely scoff

I don’t care for your opinion
You regurgitate falsehoods & lies
I’m running through the wilderness
& now I’m the Lord of the Flies

Transparent Dresses Hanging In The Mud Room

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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

Listening To Wollstonecraft On The Radio

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Listening to Wollstonecraft on the radio
“Don’t turn that dial!”, that’s what the DJ said
Not tied to any system; I’m still analog
I’m dangerous; so the advertisers pled

Hereditary responsibility to the common good
Therefore I don’t believe what I’ve been taught
I see y’all got opinions, from your suburban thrones
& these school systems regurgitating corporate rot

Criminal malpractice leaves us with poor examples
But we’ve seen far worse on both sides of the aisle
Bribing the lowest common denominator for votes
Rewrite history, but perhaps that’s not in your files

I’ve been cast off, labeled a subversive heretic
But I’m easy – so I’m doing my best to unlearn
To unwind these falsehoods they tried to entrench
The slow burn; time to take candor for a turn

Rash choices based upon juvenile aesthetics
The understanding that we all might partake
Though one must know speaking the truth too loud
Turns into testimony & they might burn us all at the stake

Those Who Cannot Think For Themselves

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Fearful of those who cannot think for themselves

The mindless marching, trying to keep in step

Regurgitating rhetoric spewed by their masters

& because they cannot see their own chains, I wept

Drinking With The Harbormaster

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Drinking with the Harbormaster
Regurgitating things only the ocean knows
Freedom can’t be created any faster
Beauty survives rarely as wild as the rose