How does one interpret,
Everyday moments
We all want clarity and forthrightness,
So why the discombobulated torment
Of words that distort the facts,
Untruthful twisted personal attacks
The world is a grand stage,
Where reputations can be made
Or lost,
By words tossed
Without validity,
Or connection to reality
Yet the guilty play the victim,
For others truth is the conviction
Or is incarceration their demand,
For the one in command
Tragically demeaning opinions,
Only further divisions
Where red and blue,
Have divergent views
About black and brown,
And the color of their town
Political power seeks to secede,
Caretaking what people and the environment need
For all that was inclusive,
Destruction is their motive
Targeting personal freedoms,
Empowered by hypocritical Christians
Exclusionary and perverse,
Because of a bible verse
Tolerance only for that which is white,
In America that’s not right
Change only happens if parties can agree,
I am wondering what our future will be.
My mind pours over your callous words
Cutting into my heart like champion swords
Why oh why do you need to act the *****
Up on your high pedestal like a wicked old witch?
Was it something I'd said, or something I'd done?
Oh no, you'll do this to everyone
To those you see as a threat to your position
This is second nature to you, your intuition
The misery is spread, the deed is done
For you, there's nothing left to be undone
You'll pretend that all is well, when you're living in hell
I hope someone will fell that nasty brittle shell
Here comes the silent treatment, the exclusionary tactics
I hope someone turns the tables on you when you're a geriatric
When there's no one left for you to dish out your dirt
By your lonesome self you can reflect on a life of hurt
AT THE MIDNIGHT POWER
As a writer I seek sanctuary in every sentence, sentiment and syllable spoken
As a man I possess a soul bought, bastardized and broken
These are traits that rate reviews worthy of nothing much
With a psyche which summarily succumbed to sorrow and such
My soul has been purchased, purloined and perpetually deprived of pity
I’ve been slaving too long at a mill with the gregarious and the witty
As a writer I am compelled, compromised and have competed with complaints
As a man I am confused by and conscious of consistent and consternating constraints
Restraints such as rules, regulations and rebuttals of any kind
Because I am shackled by my maudlin and too often mildly bemused mind
Even merriment means misery for a man such as myself
A person who displays his animosity toward others upon a mantle’s shelf
As a writer my secret is that I have no secrets nor exclusionary excuses
As a man I swear to four strong aces but hold a hand with only two lame deuces
As a writer I heed no warnings that may wane at midnight’s hour
But as a man I confess a constant lack of strength or any palpable power
© 2012...PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
Meddling money
plants stakes
to divvy tangible
on leveraged
need.
Stalwart purpose
unfettered by
those dangled lies
triumphs over
fear
despite confusing
covert attacks
designed to blur
conception of
nature.
Divinity of self
only rules
once freed from
binding loyalty
seized
at the barrel of
their tome
exclusionary to
force complicit
order.
My breath shall
cease long
before my hope
takes flesh in
word.
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