Tags
Only the skulls remain
Upon the pikes.
Oddly, you cannot tell without the clothes
Without the skin
Who was who and who was not.
Is it so surprising after all?
Once upon a time,
The legend goes,
People knew how to repair the cars but
That was long ago.
After awhile, it did them little good.
No parts were to be found.
When all the lines went dead.
Electric grids were hit and miss.
Is it so surprising, after all?
No-one now recalls just when
The Broken Times began
Or what was the straw that broke
The camel’s back.
We’ll never really know which straw it is.
The one we’ll choose to blame.
Of course, it’s really all the straws.
The straw men.
The straw arguments.
The spines of straw.
At some point,
The weight of lies outweighed the weight of law
When the rule of law was replaced
By the rule of power.
Is it so surprising, after all?
At first, the ones with guns tried to steal everything.
Well-rehearsed by then in lies,
They loved to scream and rationalize
That they needed the grub.
Along the way, they killed the very ones
Who could have helped their grandkids survive.
They did not revive.
They had no time to reinvent.
Nor wits to circumvent.
Is it surprising after all?
Everything went to hell,
Even the hand-baskets never arrived
Supply chains lay all shattered
No-one trusted anyone; not anyone.
Lies became the way of the people; the lay of the land.
It’s monotonous music that rocking and rollicking band.
If you don’t mind hearing nothing else at all, at all, at all.
If you don’t mind truth being stripped from every strip mall.
Is it so surprising after all?
Everyone became a thug of sorts, a liar and a thief.
That’s life on the street, they say.
That’s all the life that’s left:
The life of sneak and slay
The life that’s steal and cheat.
Is it so surprising, after all?
That after choosing lies and guns
Eschewing truth;
That after losing by a lot,
The child who would be czar,
Touted lies both obvious and bizarre
Which losers slurped as they embraced
To show their fealty to the lie;
Is it so surprising after all?
That a nation fell
And every life went straight to hell?
Is it so surprising, after all?
Is it so surprising, after all?
That so-called undesirables were rounded up
Forced to drink a poison cup
Or shot upon the spot?
That books were burned
True love spurned.
Justice adjourned?
Is it so surprising, after all?
With science denied
And so many lies
The crops all died?
The billionaires learned all too late
They didn’t know how to operate
Factories or companies after all.
Is it so surprising, after all?
That no-one can recall
The Times before the Broken Times?
The times before the broken rhythms
And the times before the rhyme broke?
In the corner, I spy a broken box.
A guitar! That’s what it was called.
In the Times Before the Broken Times.
All the music now
All the music now,
If you can call it that,
Is all the same.
Guitars are illegal and inedible.
Like phono graffs.
And once I think we had
Shiny photo graffs.
Illegal now as well
Hard to tell
What, if anything, remains okay.
Since the Broken Times began.
Is that so surprising, after all?
Listen you can hear the echoes of your actions
The only them that counts is all of us
The Declaration of Interdependence
Pattern Language for Collaboration & Cooperation
.
petersironwood 
Pingback: Sonnet: Supreme Sedition | petersironwood
Pingback: The 4th of July: Fire Works | petersironwood
Pingback: Awakened | petersironwood
Pingback: Essays on America: The Originalists | petersironwood
Pingback: A Drop at a Time | petersironwood