John-Ward Leighton


In a downpour of rage and grief
I, in the prison of the
caffeine induced thief
of dreams
in a world were nothing
is quite like it seems
peruse the news
where a lie will suffice
if the speaker is eloquent
and wears the mantle of the president.

Where a lie
will do for a reality
that is not true
and you can have your SUV
as long as the boys
can have
their military toys
and wear the mantle
of despots
crowned with the laurel wreath
the crowning glory
of democracy’s thief.

The politicians
announce cool goals
to assure us we can have
the world that is rapidly getting
and environmental goals that just won’t cut it
to fit the rosy goal
of a make believe no pain budget
ignoring the elephant in the room
of the wars of class
on that you can bet your ass
and your last bowl of rice
that this is not ending nice
or anytime soon.

And doesn’t it give you
a viagra-like erection
we get to participate
in yet another phony first past the poll election
where the signposts
always point
in the wrong
and the majority
says thirty three percent
is enough and an indicator
about who will be the next dictator.

Somehow in a half waking dream
I woke up in mid scream
where what I was seeing and hearing
on that silly little screen
was real
and something definitely unclean
as the sweet sounding turds
fell out of their mouths
in a
torrent of words.