poetry, politics

Royalty Midst Retches

Can we call this one evil, if they are a product of their republic?

That nation that praises hypocritical morals, posthumously adopted by fathers long buried in the passed.

Anyone can take on a ghost principle, if one wants to proclaim a self-righteous invisible glory,

It only takes one gullible fool, to start a damaging fire.

Did we overtime become that gullible fool, whilst others led us to follow their dark shadows,

Yet to a ledge of internal death, in the pretext of independence?

But were we really sheep, flocked together by men and women whom knew our foolish morrals,

And cultivated the seeds of hope, to just grow the flowers of their end finances?

For what is a billionaire, or millionaire, are they not just babies,

grown with green forest around them, while we sit in eh self wanted concrete city,

wishing for their nourishment, and them giving bites at a time.

Can we blaim this anymore on the ignorance principle, The act of not knowing,

but yet living on hope and dream, when 99% of us die never getting a bite of their apple?

yet salivating for the taste of those red juices, drip seductively through vision and sound,

to the point when one would kill blood, just to have a taste of that green forest heaven!

Is that heaven seen by us in the mist of hell, millionaire angels and billionaire gods,

And us disciples warshipping their light in our poverty stricken darkness?

Have ones committed the ultimate  self sacrifice, because of failed atemps to touch their hands,

All we could do is drink the wine, and eat the crackers given from their tables!!!

You can only laugh at the ones who praise, hope!

You can only giggle at the ones who seek, dreams!

You can only guffaw at the ones who chase, fantasy!

But die with a smile of regret, that you were never able to be one of those angels…

So praise to the gods above, that you have wine and crackers.

Party on the land and sea, that you have family.

Give thanks and worship, that you are close to heaven.

Yet remember, that they are vain celestial spirits, that don’t really give a damn about you…

For they would walk with a stance, that states their better than man,

Yet heart corrupted black, from financial advances.

Skeletons formed by lower inhabitants, have no baring on their comfort,

For the ideals birth by money and power, make one royalty midst retches.