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The Poeple
They, the invisible manipulators
that speak for us all,
they called us 'the people'.
Some went seeking Big Foot,
we needed a sasquatch, a mentor.
Some tried hallucinogens,
others called it a day too soon.
Snicker bars were getting smaller,
there was much unfocused discontent.
The dead were accused of letting us down
far too gently.
The people waited
for an artificial Intelligence,
a drug to lead them
to make better decisions.
People lost faith in people,
buskers pawned their guitars and flutes,
violins were sold for guns.
It was the best of the worst,
and it did not get any better
just suspiciously easier.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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