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by Logan
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Political · #2119190
Have your say (no matter what that say is), it's your voice, don't let someone else use it
House of Cards

The house of cards keeps falling
Slipping lower every time
With every hand dealt calling
Raising, folded in a line
With picket fences crowded
By gamblers lost, struck out
and truth that's barely shrouded
Beneath fatigue, self greed and doubt
Doubt that dealers listen,
When we're shuffled crappy hands
Decks plated gold that glisten
Rigged to blow up where we stand
Precarious with backs to walls
In apathy we play
Objections spent, wrapped up in thralls
Enveloped in the fray
With weighted dice, the chips fall wrong,
and people stake their bets
With sleight of hand, the magic's strong
in hooks, line, sinkers... nets
As panic buttons make us swim
In tight against the tide
Currents we're obscured in
… Affairs in which we hide
Cause we don't serve their purpose there
Divisions must be drawn
As Trump cards, they pollute the air
Alternate truths are born
Born and bred and raised in shit
like mushrooms in the dark
Logic grounded where we sit
In idioms so stark
As gambles lost, divide themselves
Too thin against the house
As armies fold, ideals shelve
… to fat cats, we're a mouse
To be lied to and played with
As traps are lined with cheese
Our bedtime stories made myth
Where bad things come in threes
Elected, built on 'solid truths'
Foundations forged from lies
Fortune tellers saying soothes
A past that's spilt 'tween cries
Split and reassembled
Throwing darkness in the light
Whilst fresh foundations tremble
'neath cards as black as night
A house of cards so fragile
If only we could see
Instead with fears agile
In apathy we flee
We let the horses race on
Red, yellow, purple, blue
Race lines drawn, marked down wrong
So the winner isn't true
Proportional, the point is missed
Representing, loose and fast
First past the post is promised
… Hoof for hoof, they come in last
Annoyed we tear up tickets
At the gerrymandered track
We could revolt, but that's not cricket
So we just meander back
Leaving picket lines left calling
“Please move along, merci”
This house of cards is falling
“There's nothing here to see”
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2119190