the march of delicate and wicked monkeys

lazy eyes
quarantined under a grey sun
will this crisis ever end?
i wonder if this is the big one?
the one, that many of us
have been ranting about
for so many years
fear, poverty, and disease
the system can’t hold
and so many people are divided
the narrative is controlled
problem, reaction, solution
i know that this is what THEY
wanted all along
the great sacrifice
the great culling
crisis, social control
the final steps towards
that familiar dystopia
orwell and huxley are
rolling over in their graves

empty nation
peace promised by predators
and the ghettos are in flux
with the insane glue
of lingering dead states
it’s unfair to say
the path echoes the revolution
fighting to contain
imminent fear
freedom of thought is just
a box-office extradition

the system fears losing control
so it uses fear to control(you)
social shaming, the herd is conditioned
to be the perfect weapon
brother turned against brother
the poor enslave themselves

market shares falling
TV death sprawling
sold out for $1200
will you choose to break
the spell that THEY
have cast upon you
i pray, that THEY
will not slay
the beast of truth

i grip this dusty crystal ball
in favor of a
broken surveillance camera
watch out for
guns on fences
and fences on hills
paraded needlessly
by an orange clown

central sleep
and across the sea there are
painters in prison
preachers in low places
and puppets in power

lingering in highway trees
a murder of crows congregate
with silent abandon
will someone die today?

comfort in private circle
surrounded by slanted ceilings
we write hollow letters
and exchange
indifferent glances from afar
drawing frantic jokes
like dangerous and
careless celebrities
in a world ablaze
within the ravages of an agenda
so many refuse to see

green passports
and orange roses
stay away
the driver asks
“where are we going today?”
i’m the driver
i do not know



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