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by Logan
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Political · #2228041
Somewhere under the rainbow
Tepid Rainbows [Lockdown, Part III]

Rainbows stuck in windows,
scaled grey to run with lies
Lax logic lost, as winds blows,
that reality defies

Denies, Decries... Degraded,
such casualties lay prone
It seems when wartime's faded,
in peace, truth dies alone

with media intrusion framed,
concealed in plain sight
Collusion, rushing round, ingrained,
with hands that feed. Don't bite!

Best to look the other way,
redact points deemed too sharp
Let the mainstream hold its sway,
you've got a dog, why bark?

with hollow clapping 'neath the eaves,
'midst clanging of spent pans
Three cheers for the stovers, greaves,
held key midst harvest plans

An oven ready ratings coup,
an audience well done;
with follow throughs half baked, we rue,
the way this race was run

First past posts, for horses works,
a farce, this meet has gone
A pantomime, as donkey's shirk,
half-arsed, it ambles on

Herded to the abbotoir,
'midst klaxon's urgent calls
Divided, standing where we are,
united we shall fall

with cattle driven back to work,
to fund a hungry beast
In capitals, our demons lurk,
'midst gears gorged and greased

The takings from a gravy train,
grabbed, privatised to run
A network old, a boys refrain,
depraved, is how its done

In havens taxed, gastronomy,
the heathens fill their cup
Working with economies,
where wealth, it trickles up

With rhetoric ran hot and cold,
mercurial we're led;
from then up to the pot of gold
... how many wind up dead?

'neath drab drawn painted arches, grey,
in homes of care, bereft;
pointless circles... marches stray,
protecting right from left

'midst unelected beurocrats,
and leaders in their care
Morbidly obese, plump cats
taking up their share

Counting on a comrade's votes,
mounting up the lies
Redacted swathes 'midst false emotes,
their wretched bind, it ties

A million ways to stack a poll,
with leaders being led
Whiff Whaff, Churchill, wack-a-mole,
just bang the desk instead

of moral fibre.. drifted wood,
a rift in privelidge
Instead of serving who they should,
go hide inside a fridge

with ignorance in surplus, spent,
positions poorly manned
Inept?... unfit for purpose?... Bent?
... precisely as was planned?

Preying that the pain, it goes,
forgotten in the folds;
at the end of greying rainbows,
unreached havens, untaxed gold

Pots of gold we've never seen,
rights sold, shrouded in smog
Lost amidst a strained smokescreen,
flogged within the fog

Left behind as time, it flows,
before they cut and fly
Leaving stories, slow, exposed,
"Too Late", always the cry

called out 'neath tepid rainbows formed,
transparent where they stand;
dark arches left in windows, drawn
gold pots in havened land

Protected by staid doctrines,
archaic and under threat
Draconian, such powers lean,
with votes divided, set

set and squared in windows, stained,
stuck in a grim refrain
Only stilted, stifled rainbows, strained
... can follow stagnant rain
© Copyright 2020 Logan (stipey at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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