No space, no time for indignation.
No place for pride, nor gentlemen
of such ambition.
Nothing remains safe or sacred
in the mesh of sound bites and
Nothing is permanent.
Except for the scars. Nothing is
everything and then
not at all.
It is all about the power.
All concepts requiring brave
thought overshadowed by a
recklessly tending to so many.
Politics, like commerce, once an
honorable vocation. Now a lowly
We continue watching, transfixed.
Withered victims writhe upon society’s
sidewalks of faith and hope.
promised. Promises passed over.
Collateral damage in everyone’s
war. A domestic crisis where
is everything it once was.
©2014 j.g. lewis