Thomas Wells Poet Political Verse

City of Palls

From dense sleep we emerge.
Realizing our coat, 
we seek to cast off this Nessus.
We drank the Jonestown Kool-Aid
and now it’s too late.

We never noticed the circling 
vultures despotic descent on the capital. 
We never contested the contagion, 
the invective infections of the tyrant.

Everywhere we witness the carnage, 
the flyblown bodies we covered,
the reeking pestilence of our infiltrated discourse, 
the spewing sewers of vituperation.

While all the sinkholes break open
our dual justice system a slapstick,
our public coffers are looted,
our privatized schools divested.

Trauma’s children seek asylum in cages.
Trauma’s vigilantes terrorize our borders.
   
This is the moribund city of rot.
This is the counterfeit city of lies.
This is our cloaked city
cast by an infantile overlord.
 	This is our tomb city of palls.   


Published in The Opiate Mag. 06/2019

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Anil Deo May 22, 2020 at 12:57 PM Yes, Sir, we drank the Kool Aid. You have a way with words; I am chasing Jesus or I'd be full of envy. Here's diction of distinction, & sadly true: "the reeking pestilence of our infiltrated discourse, the spewing sewers of vituperation." Then he lets people die of a virus in the wealthiest Nation, which boasts more cases (LIKE THAT'S a feather in US cap). shalom, shalom Dr. Wells, & THANX Thomas Wells May 22, 2020 at 4:20 PM Hi Anil, Your insights mean so much to me. Sometimes I worry that my more dystopian poetry is too much for some to stomach. What is particularly haunting to me about this poem is that it was a product of my muse BEFORE we knew about the pandemic! I have never thought of myself as particularly prophetic. This is the mysterious link between the power of truth in metaphor. Have a great day my friend.