Critical Mass

Share it all around, one big hurt.
This is sore paean to sins of the forefathers,
the founding fathers,
the captains of industry,
the capitalist barons and kings.
Institutions of education make devious pact
with the ignorance of hatred, allowing only poems giving
obeisance to war and carnage.
Calculate cackling of Nazgul riding high on misery, 
tightening nooses and stirrups.
Pain is, after and above, the great motivator. 
Savor flow of blood from damaged hearts,
ravages of exudation, heads kicked into oblivion,
viscous red streets.  Taste excessive violence.
Grind worlds of entanglement into a massive meatball.
Slather condiments extracted from bedeviled roots.
This is the wealth that is worth every sacrifice.
Angry, enmeshed upheaval, messages confused.
Explosive.  Desolation reigns.  Despair on Earth.
Aftermath of brutal berserker rage, rampant disease.
Tyranny displaced by chaos of shattered bones.
This is no where, just a way station from which
to switch gears, to proceed.
Drifting within concrete walls.  Love an isolate fantasy.
Striving against phantoms, wisps of ancestral winds.
Neighbors shriek.  Rotting stench permeates.
Respite, seductive cave –  romantic interlude
between defeat or ashen triumph.
Nervous fibre extends to touch.
Staunch soldiers standing to battle
for glory, God, Country.  Spoils. Twinkles of  waste.
Death as honor.
Twould be wonderful.
Rouse up on crumbling streets to yell vague slogans.
Pour arrogant fuel to immortalize endless tears,
grief and fear, tiny droplets, wearying days
running down a lane racing who knows where.
Where is the humanity in this equation? 
People, stoic race of wizards that thought and broadcast
incantations for the betterment of Man? 
Whence our deep ideals, longing passions, urgent poetry,
heroic plans?
I slept and the visage was real, I swear it.
Not a figment of fractal imagery,
nor dense reverie never to be clear.
It was not the sleep of the dead,
nor damned, nor opium induced.
It was the sleep of lovers entwined after spending into love
totality of desire.
Righteous indignation delivers us nowhere.
Real improvement takes daily concert of effort, rallying together
in common regard.
Make Peace The Issue

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