Thunderheads

The Vortex

It is a circular pathology

Of self-loathing

The strange and suicidal tendency

Of the pseudo elite.

Foolish and vain

They think,

It’s all about them

Hating you

And hating me.

Stripping us, of our identity

And erasing all our past

Setting us up to fail

Just like they want. 

They sell out their neighbor

And pick at the same old scabs

Keeping the wound angry

So we can never heal. 

But even a desperate lie

Is still a lie

No matter how huge

Or how believable.

The great deception

Leads to death

And you can smell the truth

Hanging in the air. 

In the eye of the hurricane

There is peace

And there is calm

But furious is the wall

Coming our way. 

The fix is always in

And provocation to them

Is just a game

As they manipulate people,

Emotions, and facts. 

Numbers are changed

And no one says a word

Anything to keep the lie going

Flying in the face

Of all reason, and truth.

If you sleep with a snake

You will get bitten

And if you lie down with dogs

You will get fleas.

Returning again and again

To the same old bed

Surrendering an inch at a time

Until there is nothing left. 

Behold they are counting their silver

Behind closed doors

Writing rules

That no one can see.   

But you and I

Can clearly see

What it means for the future

Both for you

And for me.