pressed ‘n pleated,
pre-disposed and superseded,
but poorly heeded,
over-psychiatrically treated,
pin-up prose,
cake-layer completed,
centrally distributed,
locally re-heated,
nearly spewed,
swallowed up,
oh fuck – regurgitated,
won’t sit well,
if stacked up to,
the tried and true,
another epic fail,
shoddily fabricated,
horizontally situated,
systematically nauseated,
linguistically and verbally inebriated,
an atrocity,
a featherless Crane,
singed into the brain,
of the Herring,
a forsaken queen,
been busy,
out bone-collecting,
well beyond her means,
never satiated,
by her plundering,
blindly placated,
by the obsolete,
of the broken-spirited,
broken down,
rotted through,
to an army paraded,
beneath the sole of my shoe.


It doesn’t become you, dear…
the façade behind which,
you run your operation;
the way you slither about in the grass,
drawing in the vulnerable as you pass,
to wound the wounded –
is your only obligation;
it’s the pitiful display of need,
that infuses each implanted seed –
passed around like bread,
throughout the broken nation;
think of those who you’ve duped –
the fools who blindly follow you,
you’ve built a congregation,
haven’t you?
An army on beaten up hearts –
many men in cuffs and shackles,
defeated by your empty promises,
ready to fight for your salvation;
but weakened to the core,
unable to stand up anymore –
what kind of army refuses,
to leave the feet of the Queen,
that they fight for?
I will tell you –
an army of drones,
dark, abandoned homes,
a legion of poor bastards –
who’ve been blinded by you,
by the lies that you tell,
the ‘save me’ song and dance,
you play so perfectly well –
the meshing and molding,
the bending and folding,
it’s all so obvious as Hell;