Poems After More News Observations
Jumping to conclusions about justice obstruction
May cause production of a mathematical deduction;
Reached an end,
And this did send;
Start over from beginning with a new construction.
What is Trump's lowest common denominator
LCD anyway. Not only has he been common
but also has a low opinion of everything including
himself.
Jim Horn
Must start from beginning with a new construction.
There was a time
when men built for God
great houses of stone and glass,
with Gothic towers reaching
to scratch Heaven's belly....
In the great hall,
beneath the bold flying buttresses,
people felt tiny--
yet when they cast their eyes upward,
they thought: This is where
He must be... and sometimes,
just sometimes, some of them would feel
a twinge, even a slight shaking, a divine wisp....
Now we build huge malls with myriad shops
offering endless promises:all lies!
We hack humanity down
to the lowest common denominator,
and mock those who seek
to awaken to their immortality....
Today we can kill in the millions--
tomorrow, billions....
All that creation has brought us to,
over such a long time,
seems for naught--
will God one day grow tired and finally say,
'ENOUGH!'
The world order has finally arrived
Australia probably the last bastion,
workplace reform to taint the purity of decency
indelible profits gouged out of misery
under the pretence of corporate ideals.
More wars to be fought
more senators to be bought,
when greed disguised by competition
leads to privatization of all that stood
for the common good and welfare,
and the populous become subjects of the
‘Lowest common denominator’.
© Harry J Horsman 2012
He walks around with a secret untold
Its taken his peace, and life begins to unfold.
No one understands the pain he has to bare.
Now everything tastes different, even the air.
Life is now empty stares from the corners of a prison cell.
Like seeing a glimpse of light, from the bottom of a well.
Walking amongst the living, as though he were dead.
He won't give it up, because on his soul they will tread.
They who forget are one day destined to remember.
Seeing life as a fire, and he is the fading ember.
Taking in the world, seeing why were not coincided.
Once subtracted, and nothing left to be divided.
A lifetime coming down to its lowest common denominator.
Buying a one-way train ticket, on a wooden box freighter.
Telling himself everything will be fine and he'll once again shine.
He's said that ever since his test came back, with a positive sign.
Bridging temorary rapids with
matchsticks, gum and tumbleweeds
whilst hearing dixie whistled
hauling your tired bones
along the well worn by-ways
with mommas hollering for
you to tie your shoelace
there is a time in which to contemplate
on the paths available
of ignorant slavery to the
lowest common denominator
or being informed to the point
of poverty by declining to participate
walk with your tied up, comfortable shoes
cross those treacherous ledges and divides
and decide for yourself a path
that becomes navigable
and always seek the blessing of your mother.
They form their own collective society in the sky.
In the distance between one tooth and another
brushing past the dentally doctored,
or subtly manipulated by our own sugar desires.
Succeeded by the lowest common denominator,
in bitterest weather seeking solace and cover.
They walk moon shined arm in arm in the breeze.
Gripping their hats with their elbows and toes
flirting in absent mindedness or certainty,
still mopping their brow with a damp cloth.
Surpassed by objects of hollow indignation,
buying substitute tickets for surrogate shows.
They laugh uncontrollably and cry with vigor
at the face in the mirror that reflects what they need.
Throwing bread not yet stale to fat pigeons,
pouring wine not yet vintage that will always taste bad.
Assuming that assurance is insurance - one step down,
mistaking conviction for courage if they could be believed.
They hop, skip then trip into flames of ice,
meandering helplessly on a round robin whim.
Charging batteries with assault of recollection,
or gently thrusting paper into a broken washing machine.
Hopefully set free by the churn of the blender,
fragments to keep us all together in atonal hymn.
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