Feather Balance. Led Weight.
Blue Opium poppies, numb:er.
Who will lay cenotaph wreaths,
For the cross-fire kids?
Collateral, for justifying?
Broken watershed, news bred.
Bloodied children, perished.
Artillery aimed at innocents,
Temples, a soft target taken.
The easily spoken sentences,
Political prose, not humanised.
Silky sickening rehearsals
Secret scripts, penned poison.
Purveyor’s of profanity, prettied.
A sneaky finger, tipping centre.
The rhetoric of the unbalances.
Bloody Blemishes. The victims.
Deliberate slaughtering,
Counteract a carnage carnival?
All too often, we attempt at,
Equilibrium on tilted turf.
The propagation of propaganda
The words weighted heavily,
Hung with hidden biases.
What object is equality.
To have different or similar,
Quantified ‘same’ by mass
The quagmire comes creeping.
Didacticism led descriptions.
The lead breathe of diatribe’s
Influence, loading against fair.
Sentience’s dollar signatory.
Forgeries of quorum cling-kin.
To the pardons in retrospect.
Circumvent the facts disclosure,
Keep the horror, under wrapping
Stem the leaking truthfulness.
To keep the populous subjective,
Shrouded in clandestine murder.
Blemished state of no remorse.
From said ‘state’ i do divorce.
About the Creator
Paul Beckett
I’m a writer, horologist & joy filled explorer. Reality to me is plastic. I’m fascinated with time, quantum physics, analogue and fashion.
My writings at least 69% autobiographical, often 99%
Fav:Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams- S.Plath
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