Arise to see the light behind your eyes
It never dies, nor penetrates the lies
Which pervade people’s minds
They dive in droves by the scores of hundreds
Feeding the beasts within their monstrous egos
Monotonous Soul-suckers
Draining the effluvium of their own boredom
Cosily ensconced in boardrooms
Cracked and weathered skin-shell like patina of delicate porcelain
Thumbs nervously twirling like dervishes
This that the panacea of diminished hopes services
The worldly ire of your desire
Crumbling corporate castles like concrete white elephants
Diving into the sea from high cliffs
Transcendence in the living soul, apathy into entrophy
While the cacophony of the bleeding minds
Woe, to be encased in alabaster plaster of paris
So they will not bag the carpets again
The high bombast of the worshipful
Casts blankets or iron, encroaching
Across borders and insensate highways
The low-way, the sky-way
The backways and by-ways
Obliteration from the new wave
Slain in three ways, a bane,
By their own inherent beauty
By their accented language
By incessantly bashing at their
Overwhelming, inexhaustible TRUTH.
Copyright © Chris J. Hudson (2025)
