Sunday, August 5, 2018

False Realities

I was eight and mommy had a secret
She was supposed to be with him 
Some guy named Jim she’d met in high school
a sweet heart but daddy she almost died  
and everyone lost their minds
FBI interrogations, blacked out evidence 
I can’t forget how Trump fooled the nation 
the prescription in the cabinet
and a solution that was permanent.

She has had a life of affairs Prozac and 
mystery but her beauty was hidden behind 
the nations worst tragedy the profit for 
pipelines and news stories that didn’t 
expose the youths resisting these monopolies.

I was just eight and mommy had a secret 
Blackmailed for some guy named Jim 
the writing in the letter wasn’t by him 
I didn’t forget that she knew the truth 
but she couldn’t expose it back then 
I was right there beside him but they 
switched places I’m insane a brilliant
 little Girl whose thoughts were erased 
for a black and white world.

That’s a false memory she says in a corner beside 
me the best of my worth being tested by a man 
who threatened and tore me down constantly
They say your sickness is a curse as they 
stand above the room and change letters 
to reverse it saying ignite the flashing lights
 and ignorance of our future in this project 
we learned that in their metaphor my mind 
was not the nations because they can’t unite
 anymore and there is no cure.

You see you were split into pieces and put onto a map. 
You were the disease of prophecy and all that 
we made you out to be. 
Sweetie hold on hold strong broken by the isolation.

She went to the University studying political science
 but that’s not the full story the masked assassins 
spoke of jihad and violence between classes as
congress pumped the lines with dope for a 
foreign meeting of minds that would never agree.

Her story though never written was scratched 
into white paint by nails and shaken in metal 
bars naked before them all were her selfless scars. 
She was the first to dream and question them on 
the television screen but her conspiracy theory 
was a bold universe exploding within itself. 
Her repressed memories retired as the warlords 
of a new age rushed to turn the page. 
The children no longer screamed through parallels.

Her book had no chapter and the silence was clear laughter. 
Her father left and she pulled open the cabinet of secrets. 
A million words a woman’s face is blurred another
motherless world a psychotic king an imbalanced 
brain of addiction and psychosis a complex neurosis
born perfect and died shattered to come back from 
that dark matter ripped from labels dad says doctor gives 
her the pills to induce meaning as incurable as
the disease beaten into her brain that we are 
all insane but the scrambled effects lost the 
means to be explained as a chronic illness in 
her brain diagnosed in the asylum.

I’m tired of looking for the truth as I push 
my fingers into the dirt it hurts the earth when 
it’s the easy way out to dance over my own grave 
the moment I uncover the bodies buried under 
me the more I feel brave to expose their 
decomposing dreams between two oppositions two 
raised flags behind smoke screens and an atom of
truth a million people screaming don’t give up 
don’t lose hope this courage is our only chance. 

It’s as if despite faithless despair there was a path 
God had been clearing for us and a time after all this 
chaos when mommy’s dreams were real and 
I could feel more and it made sense that we 
had defenses not a wall or fence for the 
one percent's engineered experience.

From the night shift she sleeps inducing 
stories that never end and people that don’t pretend. 
This waking commercial nightmare. I’m dizzy and 
my visions getting blurrier I can’t believe that 
I’m cured but cure is a 
subjective word honestly I’ll take the happy 
pills and it all gets better the voices will disappear 
lost to poverty I’m voiceless but they want me to be. 
I’m trying my best to fake the answers on a ready 
made test with a mind full of cancer.  

You were the greatest and hated by most of us 
inside we all pushed you to it and we couldn’t 
hide we lost you because this was a 
war on power not pride she knew that the media lied. 
Between the battle of lies wasting their time on 
people with problems 
nothing came close for the glory of a President while 
prophets lay way in the dump and the intoxication of 
America was honor to another outsider thinking 
they won’t be the first ones sacrificed in the 
United States of suicide. Don’t kill yourselves for each other. 
Cheap toys that were her only way are made by little boys in China 
still today.

We Can Recover

I pray to a higher power within a choir of angels singing clearing a path toward a better future we get along finally stud...