The Old Mans Sorrows

You walk around with a weapon in your mouth demoralizing the women as you walk about; you have set a dangerous tone in the town, and it has caused the people to live in doubt. You have cause chaos everywhere you go and your un-bridled tongue will destroy the show. You have been ranting and railing for several year and playing the victim that cause everyone to sin. You are running for office because you want to pardon yourself something that is not written in the history books and have caused lawmaker to re-write the books. The dogs in house are barking at you and your ego is having the better part of you. Here you are after eight long years behaving as if you are infallible, you whip and lashes with the tip of your tongue and mock the poor people when the sun has gone down. From the day you have tasted power, you have never let it go until this hour, you are still sitting in someone’s chair, although you are not physically there you have brought the mob into the square and you sat for three hours in your living room watching from your pinhole and act as if you don’t care, people were murdered in the house and you watched the mob vandalized the prestigious house. Nature watched you with an awful frown as you penetrate the abuse of the violent mob rampaging and destroying the capital and while the mob searched for mark penny another group was shouting, “hang Mr. Penny”, hang Mr. Penny, “Mr. penny was forced to take cover in secret place. More than forty of your cronies are in jail and you act as if you don’t care, the supreme court have let you off the hook and delay your sentence before the pot starts to cook. Your bonified lawyer and fixer has spent time in jail for you just to make your dreams come true and still you continue to be the same. Is this the white man’s prejudice or is it middle class morality. The value we learn in the twenty-first century has gone down the hole and sentiment that we once share has departed from your soul and concrete have filled up the hole. Here we are on this solemn day, kneeling at the altar and waiting on the universe for an answer, but the pigs will drag you down on the ground and roll you into the mud until you comply. You will look like the prodigal son when the day is done, and the battle is won, and you have to write a note and apologize to everyone that you have offended. You will spend the rest of your life in solitary confinement beneath the stage inside the sanctuary. You will crawl on your knees and beg please, and you will never have access to the cool breeze, you will live in the mud for some time until you pay the price. The old’s man sorrows are mounting, and the birds are singing a woeful hymn.