Are the British braver than us?
That they police their streets with no firearms?
Or simply more humane & competent
That they feel no need to threaten to ****** their fellow citizens?
Failure to comply
With law and order
With our militarized police
Means you risk your life.
Even if you are collecting trash,
Even if you are sleeping,
Even if you are exercising inalienable rights.

Here I had thought
Generally, each of our governments
Loved to issue & execute warrants-
Or is that merely applicable
To the poor, those with no status
Who carry no political weight
Besides their life of work?

Verdicts down on from
Supposedly the highest body
In the arbitration for justice

It's seeds of gunpowder,
To produce a foul fruit
Which kills the vine.
Bunch of psychos,
And the thoughts are dark
Because it's an empty mind.

If it's not something others will do,
If their governments will not hold their leaders accountable,
Then we need the Paddys, the Svens, the Pablos to;
You cannot wait for a criminal
To turn themselves in,
For they never shall.
At their level,
They will avoid prosecution
Till they swim in the lakes of hell.
And meanwhile, how many
Will they facilitate in the deaths of?
How many innocents murdered?
How many must be "martyred?"

If all I see is grey, does any of it matter?
I see the world for what it is,
Gradually, it's only made me sadder.
Moral victories or being rich enough to fly to Saturn,
****, I've been thinking about the latter.
They say money can help do unthinkable things,
So what would you rather be: down to earth or outta here once the meteor hits?

I came from another world just to watch the eclipse,
Careful where you fall, 'cause reality slips.
Best believe when you come down,
Your choices are fixed.
Know that if you don't dumb down, the tables flip,
Sometimes what you have to say is so outta here
It's difficult to present the world with your gifts.
'Cause they're ill-prepared to realize that you're sick,
Slick enough to make it rain on 'em with nothing but a drip.

Weaponize your loneliness,
As your rose takes on thorns
Till it hurts in that hand
Crushing the stem in your own

Spaghetti condors and
Mango vultures,
Gobstop gumbo;
Velociraptors in the Bayou, and
Doves made of mildew.
Tell me, is it all
Getting old?

I rush to speak
When I should be quicker
To pause and think,
Parsing each phrase.
How my words will and could
Be interpreted or construed
And of that, whatever resulting.
Of the checks & balances
We put ourselves through,
What is the material from which
The weights of judgement
Have been constructed?
Pig iron, sterling silver, stainless steel?
And of our choice of counterweights,
What is revealed?

From cosmopolitan, to nationalism;
For the world, for country.
For what is the world today
But a conglomerate of nations,
For what is a nation but apart of a world?
On a mish-mash, adrift through a vast nothing;
What a ride, what a whirl
A mess of tribes infighting.

I'm sure the phenomenon is
Far wider-spread than
At any other time throughout history.
The want to have been born,
Decades or years before,
And I think it's easily attributable.
Inundated with knowledge
It is hard to come to some consensus
Among peers,
Likewise it is difficult
To be in a situation you'd rather not
Able not only to conceive
But receive, every scenario you could think of.
Many of which would be the least bit better than the reality currently ascribed