Tag: political poem

Shadow Play

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“I would die for you” is an easy thing to say

When you lose the will to do so every other day

Because instead of pessimism you want your life to be a cabaret.

Anyway…

The other morning my brother claimed there’s no reason to pray.

“Skip it. Douse the guilt at the bottom of another ashtray.”

It blew my mind back then. But the world spins too fast

And now I may.

Am I waiting for permission? Am I begging for a leeway?

People will grieve someone who’s seeing red

But won’t pity anyone who recognizes the grey.

I would still die for a sinner, but which one of us is it?

Difficult to say.

Let’s pretend nothing was said during this shadow play.

-JW

Dead Flowers

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Electric sounds blasting through the floral patterned wallpaper.

The sound of seven hells bursting open leaves my lungs as a vapor.

Oh, go along, nothing to see here, simply red and yellow ichor exploding –

Yet the mirage above the mountaintops is rapidly imploding.

Can’t find the light switch, perhaps it has finally evaporated.

Perhaps I’m breathing in its suicide, and my chest feels weighted.

The ceiling is leaking holographic liquids into my tired hips.

Please wake me up once it’s all clear and the curve finally dips.

-JW

Barely

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The glitz and the glamour are ruining our youth –

Too much lipstick, too short of a skirt,

The heels are too high, the words are too brute.

You can’t be book smart if you’re also a flirt.

The anarchism is teasing their brain.

No politics for teens! Stay in your lane.

Shut it, what do you know about pain?

Let’s all follow The Dream and stay insane.

The information is spreading too fast –

When I was twenty, I had a blast.

Now they’re opposing. Who even asked?!

When opinions are given, theirs should go last.

(The reality is changing them too early.

Time is running out, most of them aren’t treated fairly.

But you would rather look away than answer sincerely?

When you claim the youth is pampered, I would say – barely.)

-JW

Leaving Ante: Part IV

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Escape (?)

I see a poorly lit bunch on the mountain tops, waiting for a confirmation sign.

No clue how to send the signal, the burning city left me dumbstruck and blind.

My voice is cracking from all the screaming, throat is aching viciously.

“I don’t have the strength to drag my knees any longer, just kill me and set me free.”

As soon as the words are spoken, someone gently grabs me by the shoulders.

My consciousness slowly drifts away. Are these like-minded souls or another cardholders?

Will they carry me home or will they take me back, to the neon lights of Ante?

I drift further away but in the back I hear them chanting: “Vigilante.”

-JW

Silver Ladders

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Silver ladders put against all my walls, it looks like a movie scene

That almost got an award that year – but the director was way too mean.

Silver ladders pushing my doors closed. My home is now a prison.

If one more ladder is put on the floor, my room becomes a prism.

Happy, indulgent people waiting by the window, waving their flags high –

Some are white, some technicolor. The love of my life is fluttering red, oh my.

Dissatisfied, poorly fed faces are licking my door knob, religiously,

Like the taste of the metal will sing to them and let them speak to me.

My mind’s been stuck in a loop so I’m in no place to escape –

Have to stay still, listening to their dim curses, listening as they berate.

The ceiling’s slowly drooping, pressing on my open mouth. My teeth are breaking.

Please remind me, friend, why did I have to stab the truth when I was never faking?

-JW

Honey Bunnies

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I think of a line or two to write down in my notes all the time, but frankly

It’s never something I want to put down in writing – and you should thank me.

The burning sensation inside is a bit too raw to make poetic or pretty.

You can’t polish a truth into rhymes that sound deep yet witty.

I’ve never worn my heart on my sleeve so they’re right to say I’m heartless –

The girl who changed the game instead of playing cards is just another animal for them to harness.

To you, my friend, this situation might seem harmless –

Until you look inside and see how they’ve made their galleries empty. Artless.

Its people they’ve put on the walls, they’re saying our trauma is entertaining.

Our ideas are called cheap while they never disclose what they’re spending

On drugs and crummy hostel rooms with their Honey Bunnies.

I used to be the last person to kick someone who’s down, now I’ll do it for the money.

Isn’t it funny

How times change and how little left to lose we have these days.

Insanity finds it ways

To take a bite out of everyone who plays.

-JW

Faux Grieving

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When the light has left for the day – and so has reason,

I patch up the cuts in my stomach, clean ichor from last season

Of the witch,

Where I was the last one standing up to them, soaking wet,

With filth under my fingernails. Yet they didn’t see me as a threat.

They read into my words but they misconstrued the meanings.

Dictionaries are useless when it comes to faux grievings

And holding onto to things so tight they pinch your carotid

Until there’s not a single vessel left that’s solid, unrotted.

“Choose your fights carefully,” they say, guns blazing.

The ironies this world can teach deserve a proper razing –

Unless, of course, all things corrupt are also built from good intentions,

Spoiled by too much trust and lack of attention.

Aiming a revolver in the sky is not a choice many get to make

Although we’re told that going our own way is a piece of cake –

Wedding cake, probably, as there isn’t a faker symbol in the business

Of selling out souls for pennies at time, just to end up with a grimace

Full of ghouls and a grimness.

-JW