SECTION TWO
SYSTEMS
Faith Expectations
The population depends
on networks unknown,
where rewards
for faith are rarely shown
Society's bonds
are built between beings,
who fail to evolve
outside the complex
of machines
This reliance enables
production to carry forth,
as integrity
is escorted miles off course
As we hire these experts
to guard our estate,
they tilt crooked scales
with hollow weight
Yet we wish optimistic
ideals will hold,
that's what’s expected
'cause that's
what we were told
We don't ask much-
just that promises are kept,
and there's no scandals
while objectives are met
These conflicting principles
prevent sanity to enlist,
in epic deceptions
that by faith still exist
Burn the Casino
September is a dark month
for two districts;
Columbia,
the financial,
and their addictions
It was the gleam
that amused
makers with means,
and a glow
blinding bundlers
of liens
The incentive
to immerse
in forecast and risk,
taunts hustlers
to develop new tricks
We should burn the casino
and never rebuild,
as the flash
and the stacks
keep the poker room
filled
Take all the dealers,
the bosses
and their kind,
and force a fair hand
with an exchange
to unwind
The games we granted
housed rules
they all wrote,
because we are pawns
with soft views
as we vote
Donkeys, elephants-
they're both on the hunt,
stalking for stakes
in granite jungles
we fund
On the blocks and banks
where legal burglars
bust standards,
customers line tables
as willing fools
and bystanders
As black becomes red
in deals they can’t afford,
numbers are bent
to reconfigure the board
The vice and the sin
stain neighborhoods
as a blight,
while barons and felons
roll the dice
every night
There's a roar
when they hit,
and quiet with mistakes,
knowing this system
is too fixed to break
Our Mistakes and Their Future
It's the brutal nature
of staging multiple wars,
against our enemies
or by democracy's whores
This river of money
makes the powerful weak,
spending most of their tour
framing terms they can seek
Those “citizens” united
join numbers to infect-
a cancer in the culture
our charter won’t protect
As puppets they dance
without gravity in their strings,
so they tangle too easy
on the extremes of two wings
They'll state they are here
for families and their cause,
yet all they do is exploit
procedural flaws
Those reckless victories
lack the humanity we need,
and while they drone on
the working class bleeds
It's more than the present
pathetic idiots affect,
when we impair generations
with the fools we elect
Our mistakes and their future
are fused at the tip,
braided in a battle
by a minority's whip
These lapses will reverb
in the ashes of collapse,
as the latest example
of how empires don't last
Uncivil War
Somehow we forgot
the beauty of debate,
as volumes exploded
in a world wide estate
There used to be civility,
there used to be respect,
these days you sew arguments
with select dots
you connect
It's not allowing the details
to stunt a great tale,
it’s just stating your case
to close the sale
What happened
to disagreeing
and leaving it at that,
now revenge
is the reflex
when aggressors combat
It's healthy to discuss
the issues of the day,
then listening,
not plotting
the next statement
you’ll say
Believe it or not
you won't always be right,
and anxiety of that
shouldn't prompt you
to fight
This can stop
if we start
to act with some grace,
so we seek to converse
but with manners
in place
Second Thoughts
Are we not sick
of the armed
endangering our streets,
distorting the Second
behind lobby elites
Quotes out of context
as the basis for decisions,
twist what the framers
originally envisioned
Lines that are drawn
by those tasked
with this cause,
employ what they must
for the authors of laws
Their conventions and shows
push agendas of violence,
while those who could stop them
interpret outcry
with silence
The coldness that lies
within a few disillusioned,
explodes in a storm
when they don't find inclusion
A wrath of the unstable
is easier to attain,
when an industry’s pockets
benefit from their pain
Where there's profit,
there's failure
for the interests of the rest,
because as long
as there's fear,
false militias will invest
When did apathy
trump empathy
for mankind
and its splendor,
as resentment
kills solace
we forget to remember
In the flashes we care
comes overreaction
that’s fleeting,
as if the only two options
are suffocation
or breathing
Where are we headed
without a reversal
of this trend,
but to a crisis created
by the refusal to amend
Casualties of the Curse
Imagine you're in a tower
on a Tuesday
after the turn,
and then a moment later
the floors beneath you
burn
Imagine you're a teacher
in an unassuming town,
when madness
slays the future
of innocence shot down
Imagine you're enjoying
a mix of sport
and spring,
until cowards leave behind
an end
of virtuous things
Imagine you're a hostage
under a tyrant
and his whim-
an exile from the world
you can't participate in
Imagine you have fear
death could come each day,
living for beliefs
despite the price
that you may pay
Imagine you're a citizen
amidst drug cartels
and hell,
numb to all the violence
and misery they sell
Imagine you're a child
too nonexistent
to be poor,
forgotten by those ignoring
genocides
across their shore
Imagine you have capacity
but refuse
to feed your roots,
while famine and pandemics
leech crops
the wealthy loot
Imagine you are struggling
climbing valleys
toward respect,
but instead of a safety net
the rope's tied
around your neck
Imagine you're unlucky
and the subject
of a verse,
imagine for a moment
you were a casualty
of this curse
Amplify
If you pause
for a bit
you’re now behind,
as sprinters
lap joggers
a thousand times
The importance of speed
is savagely rabid,
where repeated codes
let us express
less elaborate
Long form is dying
in a riot of replies,
as birds pursue buzz
for mentions
and allies
The past had cycles
sprawled in pages,
not rumor infernos
that char
with its blazes
Opinion was poured
from the filter of a few,
then keys became turnstiles
for the novice
to blitz through
The burden of truth
is obscured on flat screens,
where context is bound
by what it all means
We are directors
in a disordered scene,
spinning sagas
in wild theaters unseen
Fresh techniques
unleash crumbs
for consumption,
in binges of data
with no sustainable function
Louder is the gospel
we amplify at will,
with transmissions of merit
in the spheres that may fill
Wasted Wisdom
Shelves contain volumes
of advice
for the confused,
where dust buries treasures
of wisdom unused
Every question's been asked
and answered with flair,
as text
congests sections
like guests at an affair
Insight ingests details
of theories and results,
as authors build monuments
for observers
it consults
It's that curious connection
where magic takes place,
in the bending odyssey
of infinite space
But these chronicles
should carry some doubt-
as they were written
by humans
with reflections drawn out
Perceived winners
shape history
vague with their fairness,
penning revenge
with a brush
that is careless
With separation and humility
ancient words can endure,
and while some
provide blueprints
the rest become lore
There's no way to recount
every tangle
in this world,
so we shouldn't rely
on tradition unfurled
Those brilliantly distinct
and ahead of their time,
will find endless lovers
who’ll covet their wine
We’ll marvel
at their talent
though periods may change,
by an emphasis of boldness
how language was arranged
The power of these words
weighs heavy on us all,
whether wisdom is cherished
or dissolves
as thoughts fall
Thirty-Five Stories
Thirty-five stories
with one for each floor,
from the vanity
of the penthouse,
to the immigrants
at the door
In this thick urban forest
the buildings don't shade,
they keep cursory soldiers
in a status crusade
Mobs are dense
in this synthesized zoo,
glancing while passing,
deeming verdicts on you
The sections and boroughs
flaunt obnoxious their worth,
as if blocks were a culture
in this lottery of birth
The constant construction
decays as it grows,
and if you ask
if it's noticeable,
I assure you,
it shows
There's a hustle
on the grid
where venture plays,
as signs corral numbness
in this overpriced maze
The options are plenty
in the saturations
of sight-
a wash of false quality
that stays open
all night