Blinkered eyes and satin gagged mouths begging for mercy
And hands outstretched pleading for the wrath of God
To deliver them from the unrelenting purgatory of Evil-
A demon they forged into their mind-set as a blossom of blood
On a white dove's corrupted feathers.
Really it was no more than their wormhole conscience
Pulling them in enemy-fraternized and wholesome
And sucking them out dry and butchered
But alive.
Always f*cking alive.
Routine breathing in and out toxic air, polluted
With stereotypes, morality (whatever the hell that mattered)
Hate and vengeance-Nazi ordered, take it or die.
"Your life is little more than a flower we can uproot
And stamp down on- remember that", with that little smile
And a gun pointed at your head- Power Russian Roulette.
Either more bent towards the Left or Right of the crow's wing
Never forwards for the "Good of Mankind"
Just filling pockets of the rich and famous
With trinkets of 'I Owe You's' which were never
Going to be repaid.
YOU ARE READING
Black Coffee
Poesía"Normality is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly"- Anon. In life we tenderly bloom, slowly shrivel and then die like flowers. This small collection of poetry reveals human emotion from a number of different perspectives...
