Dividing Line
Bright lights, flames in motion.
Arms weighted with emotion,
as each carries
their burdensome torch.
Lit alleyways, littered by mayhem,
breached by commonsense.
Is it too late
to chase scintillating dreams,
to rid the streets
of the beast?
The mantra
had captivated mouths and memes,
seemed the broad path was in,
was easy. No one understood,
the following was satisfying,
it had treats, whistles and bells.
Pavlov would ring,
ice cream was melting;
drips and dollars,
indecisiveness.
The public fell for it.
Hypnotic, sliding
into each scenario
like colorforms placed;
placemats, paid off.
The scent of incense
scorching the silver lining,
anger the prayers of the masses
who had never knelt
to the unknown God,
only to reason and revery.
Oh yes, they dipped
into psychedelics,
thrilled by curt
and coarse language,
and irreverent motion
of the tall man.
Like any gang,
with any spark of disloyalty,
you’re out,
you’re beat -
tread marks identify you
as the enemy.
No one notices
because each member’s
given rose-colored glasses.
The storm of hail,
thunder, lightening,
frightening
but ineffective to disturb
the disturbed.
Torches light the streets,
attempt peace,
only propaganda distressed.
Occasionally,
one pulls away from Frankenstein’s monster
when the light
lands on the truth.
Proof. Glass house shatters. Gutter
full of bottles; hands through grates.
Dividing line. Blue sky and bluebirds
above the fray; fearless patriots.
Copyright ©
Kim Rodrigues
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