and watch out for the crocodiles

a poem for our painful times

for Arthur Rimbaud
and Giuseppe Fallisi

 

Bug out bags and broken dreams
Dying children skew our schemes
The winter of our unpaid rent
complicates our discontent

Societal breakdown engineered
Every thought from logic steered
Our brains controlled from far away
by toxic high tech mind decay

A thousand years of phony facts
A hundred years of processed food
is how our sickness to the max
imprints belief in nothing good

Fomenko found a quilt of lies
wrapped around our sacred soul
that warped our chance to analyze
the complex truth of what they stole

Tartaria’s timeworn ether tower
shut down by stolen crude oil ghouls
then hired perverts paid to glower
shoddy sellout songs for fools

Dubay’s earth turned turned flat and cold
his ice wall blocked our starry stare
fierce questions hide the story told
about the monsters living there

Admiral Byrd explained the same
came back and told James Forrestal
who blabbed to all about the game
’til Uncle Sam arranged his fall

The mind of the people fell with him
splattered on pavement paved with gold
another verse in a familiar myth hymn
concealed by clever stories told

Who are those phantasms
they do their best to try to hide?
ET aliens with inbred spasms
or merely traitors we cannot abide?

Thus the heroes’ forced suicides reveal
brave men you knew who wouldn’t squeal
as distracted lemmings refused to hear
these fatal threats approaching near
the smug enclaves of buff buffoons
deluded by these preachy tunes
concocted by the Frankfurt school
sung by those we thought were cool

she loves you, yeah yeah yeah

Yes, those same dudes who killed jesus
revitalize their food supply with corpses
young and innocent prepped with pain
for those who crave the blood they drain
that keeps them high while they deny
that one day they are going to die

we know who they are
but we are not allowed to say

once you tell the truth
you no longer are allowed to play

if they let you live at all
say those who kiss that wailing wall

 

John Kaminski is a writer who lives on the Gulf Coast of Florida, constantly trying to figure out why we are destroying ourselves, and pinpointing a corrupt belief system as the engine of our demise. Solely dependent on contributions from readers, please support his work by mail: 6871 Willow Creek Circle #103, North Port FL 34287 USA.

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