Blue Sky Days

I don’t know
what’s true.
It feels rude
to ask more
than I can offer.
Sky so blue and free
in theory, soaring poetry —
reassigned to theater of attack.
No refuge, no cover.
Lies become a code,
rule of law.
Denying wages owed
becomes a cause.
Reason schooled by rote
to buy another vote
or abrogate neighbors’ souls.
Safely obscured behind official names.
Deface of earnest no-ones posed for blame.
Shooting stars defamed. Dead on delivery.
Pistol retort, hype sniper sport,
whistles like a whisper from our grave.
Scrimp, save, refrain; buy a one-way chance.
Answers?  Why even ask?
Charged with what grand market will allows.
Tomorrow, if that sentence is permitted,
terror-flayed pay with
submission.  Ever more abrading bands parade.
Hidden within a different pageant,
smiling artiste wizard paints
halcyon blue sky.  Quietly,
beneath surveillance,
peace augurs breathe in cordial company.
Dormant wings shimmy free.
.
.
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