by Anthony J. Langford
Human spiking
The troublesome one
Begins in soil
And ends in flight
The damage is done in the bedroom
With eyes to the stars.
Pointed down
Pointed parasites where politicians played
Dressed up like old thespians, worn overcoats
Bedraggled jester hats adorned every slug infested
Speech, which the people swallowed and gorged, desperate
For belief. Blighted cries, whereforartthou
Hollow, turgid disappointment
Until next time.
Assumptions were made and admissions transcribed,
The bill passed, credit please, and all was quiet again, until the escalated interest
Was revealed and the unfolding of the deal, disorderly conduct,
Without the arrest.
Sanctioned fiscal genocide, how could they, send ‘em down the river
Bonds were misplaced and misguided trusts, now swapped, swimming upstream.
We know where this will go, yet there’s always hope, in a new beaming face promise.
Create, tear down, seek and destroy, has always been the standard fare, bangers and mash
If you please, steadfast they go on, changing the tune, as we don’t see the parallels, blinded
by faith, which of course, is the only way forward, as our meals are served lukewarm and we blame it on the waiter.
Thirst for a dead label
Peering back
Through the open door
The one that’s never closed
Yet you’re reluctant to revisit
Nostalgia comes with its own dangers
Rose colored perceptions have their benefits
Yet a longing for what was
The pull to the deep forging beginnings
Leaves the now
Tasteless
Bland
And spiritually empty.
It’s a place too comfortable
Never to be topped
And best avoided
Until the point
When going on is not an option
And going back is a necessity.
Improve on original
This is how it goes
In paradise
Gritty
Laden with experience
Events to share
Now and always
Without recourse
As stories
Are always glory laden
Devoid of guilt
Or repercussions
Nor denigration of reputation.
Another deluded
Day
Before destiny.
Well planned foundations
Those days
When you’re far too tired
To make a decision
Let alone fight
As you knew it all yesterday
But now you remember nothing.
When you possessed more than hope
A victory
Encircling the palm
Close to a fist seizure
With the next step
Ready to follow
The previous one.
Those planned days ahead
Collapsed in cracks
Tomorrow
The worst of all
Sense
Being the first victim
And now there’s no plotting
An initial step
Let alone
A successful
Connecting dot trail.