faint kelp
The parallax of god in his grave,
miscellaneous men condemned to slaves.
Freedmen of the holy kingdom,
There’s nothing to worship left in Sodom.
——————————————————
It little profits that an idle king,
Complete with his barren maids,
Step from his seat of comfort.
Just to work again with slaves.
The same it goes for you,
The reader, the free and able.
Still, left idle in your helpless cradle,
A prisoner to yourself and who you want to be,
You’ve forgotten what it means to breathe.
In this monotony,
We’ve forgotten a crucial human tendency.
To be a person, born and reborn again,
We’ll rise from our graves as nobler men.
Not a king nor a ruler, not a peon nor a knave.
We’ll rise as who we want to be,
Not as who we believe we want to be.
Dishonesty, lawlessness, nuanced and biased, on every little thing.
No room to be pious or full of hope.
We’ll wake up tomorrow, with our backs to the sun, face down and trampled on a ski slope.
Naked and intimidated we’ll develop again.
Rise into the mold of our exact same nation.
Stepping toward fulfillment, in an automated prophecy,
Of a late stage democratic bureaucracy.
“We the people, for the people benefit my company”
Teach celebrities to run a meritocracy.
Self sufficient, narcissist, melodramatic stop-and-sees.
We the people stand alone and apart in a failing town.
Unaware of the consequences, soon to be drowned.
Tune out your mother’s beckons, for home.
The waters to your shins now, lay down face first, in the snow and in the dirt.
Let it flow into your mouth you’ll find power in the freedom.
Maybe there you’ll find the confidence to uphold your only kingdom.
A lamb was found in the bog today,
Oil so thick it had stained its skin.
The vets that brought it in found evil in its veins and messages of ashed rain.
hybrid vapor