Tag Archive | politics

Building bridges just to watch them burn . . .

burning match

We’re united in our division.
Someone has to be right,
so someone must be wrong.
Everything becomes a battle
too many are willing to fight.

We try to fill the gaps between us,
hoping one day we will learn,
but every time we build a bridge,
there’s always someone, somewhere,
who simply wants to watch it burn.

Yes, we say we are united
as we draw lines upon the sand.
We gather words as weapons,
forging them from facts we think we know,
then choose a side and firmly make our stand.

Self proclaimed, self -righteous warriors
charge forth with vitriolic indignation,
under the guise of what they believe is right,
without regard for who gets hurt,
their final victim will be our nation.

Us against them and them against us.
Arsenals filled with rhetoric, stats, and lies.
Angry accusations violently explode,
blinding everyone with shrapnel
till they’ve lost sight of why they fight.

It isn’t just about the politics,
It’s about how we think and what we speak.
It’s about how we parent and how we feel,
how we show our faith, and how we choose to live.
All this right and wrong only makes us weak.

What will be left, if it ever ends?

Why do we keep trying to build bridges,
if we’re just going to watch them burn?

Take Refuge


The self-appointed mighty
stand upon precarious pedestals
of judgment and power,
built from the ruins
of what could have been.

They placate the people
with empty platitudes
and false promises,
just enough to quell
their concerns
and keep them
from questioning
the hidden agendas
they do not want known.

The weak are so willing
to worship at this
looming altar of illusion,
carrion for the vultures
to fill their already
bloated bellies.

They spew proclamations
of progress carefully
crafted to deceive,
like snake oil
peddlers of old,
they sell their lies
and the people buy
without question,
it’s easier than thinking
for themselves.

They drink the Kool-Aide
while begging for more
even as the poison
consumes them.

A surrender of self
is underway,
conform or be cast out,
set adrift in a dying sea.

Stand up and be shot down,
speak up and be silenced.

You have the
right to listen
but no longer
the right to speak,
unless of course,
you’re reading
from their script.

They’ve lined
the citizens up,
filed them into
a maze, all
vying for some
non-existent prize.

Misguided and
delusional, dropped
into an inescapable
labyrinth, lab rats
bending to the will
of their captors,
easily manipulated,
completely expendable.

The puppet masters drool
as they watch their folly,
not even knowing
they’re attached to strings too.

With feigned disdain
they watch the innocent suffer,
quantifiable loss is ignored.

Mindless masses
frolic like fools,
but there’s a storm coming
and they refuse to take refuge.

The weatherman says
it will pass them by,
the weatherman is always right,
except when he’s wrong.

There’s a storm coming
and it’s going to rain.

Oh, how it will rain.

Crystal R. Cook


is when
fades into
twilight oblivion

Under crimson skies
delusions arise

Warped visions
we cannot see
play out
in the
static film
that covers
our eyes

Voices whisper
words we can’t
though their
is clear

Truth is
for every
blind eye
to see

The sage
is a jester
selling dementia
like candy
for nothing
more than
your sanity

Crystal R. Cook

United We Once Stood

is everything

Your reality
exists in
their delusion

Their fantasy
has become
your fact

Only the
what the
have to say

Forget what
you’ve learned
since the world
began to change

You were taught
nothing but lies
by those who speak
the solemn truth

They spew
sugar coated
sickly sweet
even they
do not

You may
speak out
but only
in silence
you are
not welcome
to be heard

They try to hide
the fools
they truly are
with transparent
to extrapolate
and deceive

more than
breath wasted
time squandered
beneath the guise
of progress

Breeders of
what could
and what should be

Mindless yes men
hide beneath
masks of honor
and truth
and trust
without intention
to change

Senseless sheep
promise freedom
as they herd
precious little lambs
to the wolves
for slaughter

is everything

Crystal R. Cook