2018-08-21
by
Eleanor Goldfield
in the ashes of our mistakes –
shredded bits of paper –
like confetti at a funeral –
someone has to burn.
between the lines lie criss cross lies –
do you ask the light if it’s good?
A murdered messenger
sent us a message –
how easily tho –
it got lost in the din – –
coz didn’t he sin?
Yeah, he’s an arrogant ass –
giving fascists a pass – —
Or…
A hostage of Holy Rome –
a rattler of thrones.
Either way –
His fate, we do own.
Either way –
this leaking truth, we do own.
If you feel like you’re drowning – wake up.
The arguments shallow, the precedent deep –
and the road to perdition is steep –
and slick.
Do you follow their lead?
The leaks can’t be dammed –
but the man –
so easily damned.
Coz secrets can’t be kept –
but lies have shelf lives far too long.
Here is the empire’s swan song –
a failing and flailing hegemony –
a Machiavellian tragedy –
a grotesque dark comedy –
an idiocracy, we –
are the players – and the played.
Must this show go on?
I don’t know this man –
but I don’t want his blood on my hands.
As a child of empire –
I’m already soaked.
Then buy me a beer and we’ll talk about sin –
but here, now – I’m tearing down gallows
coz the ashes of our mistakes –
are choking out the light.