Sunday, July 12, 2015

Poem: Democracy is Dead



I'm sorry, for all the things my race has done.
Taking every resource,
Leaving none.

Destruction.

As the mess hits critical, apocalyptical conclusions,
I'm forced to listen to hypocritical political delusions,
who smile, or nod in earnestness.
I don't believe you.

Politicians > magicians! 

Is that what you think you are?
Can't you see, (blind fools!) that death 
is never very far away?
When you take your last breath, 
who will listen to what you have to say?

The grief, I have to live with the grief, 

of your decisions.
The rampage of economies untamed, 

while you stock-pile provisions, 
For what?
What future do you foresee,
beyond your short political shelf-life?
Democracy is dead, the genie 
released 
from the bottle holds the knife.

Philosophers, they tell me -
'The kingdom of heaven lies within',
If I can just quiet my mind, 
shut off my ego and shut out the din.

The key to salvation of all, is in the heart of one.
Please, tell me the time has come.



Thank you to Andrea (@singersullivan) for use of her photograph.

Inspiration: 
• Russell Brand's book 'Revolution' - Read an excerpt here.
• NSW Trustee & Guardian (explain to me again why a person 
who cannot feed herself or even walk has to submit a tax return...)
WIRED magazine reporting on the global trade of sand mining.

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