False hopes and false prophets


False hopes and false prophets,

Imaginative martyrdom in its finest.

False death and false life;

False sense and lost pride.

All of the world, painted black and white,

We Lie ourselves to sleep at night.


Reality is but a blur,

A subconscious, desensitized massacre.

Superficial fears and suppressed pains terrorize our wake,

To the point where we’ve lost sense of yesterday.

The beggars pleading on every corner

Leave a sour taste on our tongues of doubt.

The signs, the tattered clothing,

The restless, hopeless, vengeful mourning.


America the beautiful,

Where Art thou now?

To invoke song and cheer

And ignorant pride all about?

So pretentious and honorable

We claim ourselves,

Living in this Fateful hell.

To vote, to provoke,

To detest anything carefully remote;

We fail and we flail

To protest blindly, yet carefully clean.

But yet, we offer ourselves no relieve;

We only live in what’s left between,

Morally acceptable and obscene.


We the people, left so compromised

To our county’s promises still unsatisfied.

Strings tied and knotted and unremoved,

We give and we give, but are still so consumed

To this greater good that never gives back;

The relentless weight we carry fourth and back.

The visions are left so blurry and vague,

What could we think but of darker days?


And so should you stand so fine and blue,

Against our saviors of navy hue.

The thought of passage and the fear of choice,

Against the royal blue and the silent voice;

So vulnerable and so perceptive,

Left nothing but the forceful narrative.

You ask our hope and you ask our survival

Of something so tenuously deniable.


And to think our own prejudices have saved our lives,

We’re so ignorant and underserving of pride.

The president, it not an implement of good karma

But of our ignorance so transpired.

What is left in this country left to admire?




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