Just Another Day

Just Another Day

A soulless stare with demons’ eyes,

counts his money with surly wry.

A coin for lodging, a coin for sleep,

a coin for water n’ wine to keep.

Now rest away your weary head,

a good night’s sleep on cardboard bed.

Clock is ticking, conserve your strength,

tomorrows work, three coins for length.

Eyes wide shut while time does fade,

to dungeons dark were walls decay.

Screams and sirens pierce the night,

fouling dreams till mornings light.

And then awake, the roomers call,

it’s check out time, beside the mall.

Face unshaven, clothes all haggard,

direction plain, walk is staggered.

Hunger bites its morning blues,

now coming down from the booze.

A soulless stare with empty eyes,

arrives at work, disorganized.

The day is long, three coins are paid,

now journey’s back, to where he stayed.

A soulless stare with demons’ eyes,

counts his money, with surly wry.

A coin for lodging, a coin for sleep,

a coin for water n’ wine to keep.

-----------------------

About this Poem: 

Society lives in a prefab illusion where people are willing captives in bondage to an economic system that is no better than slavery. The painful truth of a corporate programmed society…

One of the escapes chosen by people is alcohol which carries a demon inside. All too often its use becomes a routine that slowly steals the health and mind of its victim. Apathy towards societal change is all too common due to its creeping theft of will power and memory, which is why this industry is controlled by the criminal establishment.

Remembrance Day

Remembrance Day

Remembrance Day of long ago,

temper these aging eyes,

essence gone, that comes to life,

in grey November skies.

Silhouettes moving slowly,

parade my inner thoughts,

with Bayonets at ready,

their emotions tied in knots.

The trenches filled with soldiers,

waiting for bombs to stop,

in search for some damned reason,

to charge over the top.

Reliving moments gone,

life passes before their sight,

apologies made for wrongs,

with wishes to make them right.

And then the truth comes knocking,

it rears its ugly head,

and paints astonished faces,

on all the soldiers’ dead.

Bloody mud and empathy,

where lay the soldiers dreams,

are children lost forever,

to sick psychotic memes.

Lifeless now their bodies lay,

their spirits carry on,

all lost amongst the shadows,

of the millions who were wronged.

The people bought a story,

sons and brothers sent to die,

in someone else’s homeland,

the reasons just a lie.

Generals take their orders,

from economic forums,

receive another medal,

adding to decorum.

Final letters make it home,

all written months before,

carried to the grieving,

by a knock upon the door.

With promise to remember,

a day is set aside,

but hidden, is the reason,

for why it is they died.

Today I do remember,

who’s lives for me were given,

but the bastards who sent them there,

will never be forgiven.

--------------------------------------

BY: The Activist Poet