Fake News

Connected inside of this

mausoleum.

To echo in,

receiving what we are

screaming.

No coherence,

just confusion.

Unable to tear away

a single voice

in the noise.

A dance melee.

 

Started out

an ordinary day,

until the shout;

Chaos joined the fray.

Purge begins

when the finger

finds the unclean;

then the fires start.

 

Atrocity,

such a pretty

eventuality.

The road to Hell

lined with Peony.

Roses red,

violent apathy.

Dread assuaged

by the LED.

 

A magic word.

A cigarette

still contains power,

like it did back then.

Mesmerize,

divide

and override.

We were always

wireless,

why did we compromise?

 

Orange glow

in the night,

city lights

come and go.

Immortal  statues

gone like Rome.

Pillars smashed,

the way the atom goes.

I never thought

the Water-Heads

were 8-Balls,

describing this scenario.

All so perfect,

the sound rises,

cacophony

to crescendo.

 

A masterpiece

of insurrection,

madness

and servitude.

Blue skies,

un-clamoured,

never went out of style.

Faces bathed,

irradiated,

still hold

their rictus grin,

even after

the lights

go out.

 

HG – 2018

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