PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I need an escape, an exit from your madness. Even now I have grown to question the vary part of me who holds out hope that people, my countrymen and neighbors will wake from their egotistical dream of their so called enlightened perspective. Witness and see that what good is the word freedom, if all it means is to be hallow and a lie. Deep down you know this has to be true, or has your conditioning saturated your illusion to the point of blindness?
They say the devils best trick was to convince us that he was not real. The jester in the King's court does his job well, has you deceived into believing the ultimate scam. Freedom, the greatest lie forced to the poor and disenfranchised, down their throats with no remorse or compromise. You are free to chose like a multiple choice questionnaire. Though the powers that be have forgot or left out my choice, where is that check box of I don't give a fuck to your prearranged options. Laws and regulations made by the coin, where justice is bought by deep pockets or kindred friends. Hunter Thompson was right. The American dream is dead, and we truly are fucked. Raped by greed, for either power or money. We are left with but a shell, a rotting carcase of what was once a great dream.

The world is mad, and I with it as my own curiosity compels me to witness this freak show to the bitter end. Drama kings and queens rule over our courtrooms, as perverts slither into our religions and spirituality. As evil pirates steer our nation right over the cliff taking us all down with them. All I can seem to think at this moment is how this ride is going to end. A crazy often suicidal roller coaster of uncontrollable emotions and desires, mood swings violent and disturbing twisting into a tornado of conflict. Don't be the fool to believe, that somehow you will survive this fight. Your life is forfeit, on borrowed time the moment you were born. While most spend their lives trying to figure out who they are, they allow the beauty that is the moments in time to pass by their sleeping eyes.
My god. The savages are lose. True brutes only out for themselves. Where do they all come from? A factory somewhere deep in the jungle mass producing them by the thousands. Each of theses bastards are equipped with an ego, and installed with self righteousness. They will step over those they once called a friend as you must read their bylaws and you will clearly see their brutality.