Just Another High Tide

Lawns littered with the visage of puppets

as another era of echoed ideals,

newly twisted into the same old knots,

is subject of garrulous debates.


Tell us what you think we want to hear

with forked tongues through bleached smiles.

Disguise your voices and hide behind thinly veiled lies

of potential promise for the coming years.


Flaunt the gaunt logic of lives jeopardized

for the sole sake of others’ crude assets.

Explain to us how to dig half of a hole

and as quickly fill it back in with theory.


Surplus dwindled to deficit exponentially

as the buck gets passed, paper thin as it is,

to whoever presently antes up the pot;

’cause calling the kettle black is back in fashion.


The choice to have a voice in muted whisper

isn’t much different than whistling in the dark,

for the face that’s picked to place on the errant body

will never be seen for more than its watermark.



art credit; Kew Watermark




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