Bones

[saw]

sooner or later you are gonna
get thrown against the wall
don't matter it all if your nose is clean
at the time, it's coming...clean nose or not

the system, or you could call it the market
if you like, as long as you don't use real names
the invisible fist don't much care about that thing
in the middle of your face, unless it involves breaking it

cauldrons of callous bone broth simmer
on the stoves of unchecked cruelty and greed....
that's what the lovers of power and money cook up
your femur, your tibia, your ribs

I try to stay cheerful, help the ones I love
but I can't stop the repetitive dreams at night
of bodies being thrown against the muthafucking wall
and collected by faceless ghouls for soup stock

even many of my liberal friends have gone mad
swept up in the big lies and the status quo,
regurgitated misinformation spewed by clever demons
it's so easy now that they all have the internet tool in their dented metal boxes

once upon a time you'd have to leaflet in your community
to get anyone to listen to your half-baked ideas
now you can do it in seconds, and well-funded think tanks
that could be working feverishly on Covid-19

simply spin new ways to collect a lot more bones

[jackofnightmares]

there it is:

I try to stay cheerful, help the ones I love
but I can't stop the repetitive dreams at night
of bodies being thrown against the muthafucking wall
and collected by faceless ghouls for soup stock

here it comes another mindless gut reaction typing with my spinal cord
I have dreams that lie in the darkness just beyond the neurological horizon, maybe inspired by some black and white Hollywood murder mystery from the 1940s.

a visceral reaction to your poem thoughts of the trail of blood I have left on the road from Astoria, Oregon, to Cape Cod.
Hate that feeling of my nose being broken the high school girls of Baltimore in the 1950's thought I looked like Elvis. now my nose is a corkscrew

I feel like Pollyanna sunshine, singing a tom Paxton song about pack up all your sorrows

thanks for the rant and poetry
studio eight like a shot of ether in a B model Mack™ that has been sitting out in a lot in deadwood south Dakota, on a cold clear bright day in February

a kick in the ass to get me started

[mtmynd]

Damn!

[mnaz]

Powerful. Contrary to the tone of finality in HST's "Wave" monologue (1971), a few brave souls here & there soldiered on into this millennium and who knows how much longer in their (ultimately futile?) underlying belief in the eventual triumph over the "forces of old and evil." The belief was that "our energy would simply prevail"... But what kind of energy has it become?...

[mnaz]

That's the thing about governments (who by definition, at least by history, are invested in investing us in mass-killings and land grabbing and profit taking and wars and killings and playing the stats and collecting taxes). You wonder how long it can go on.

[saw]

thanx for the feedback gents...what is particularity inexplicable is the level of pain these folks are okay with inflicting on a continual basis on people already profoundly suffering....it's as is is intended for just that purpose to cause harm.....money alone cannot be the answer

[mnaz]

Cruelty. Many roots thru the centuries.

Money is just the latest would-be savior. If you can afford it.