Servitude

The afternoon gave way shyly to a timid twilight fading towards futility.

The frigidity of a calculated kiss where smiles are forced and the laughter harsh in the wilderness with wasted words jostling to be heard.

A plantation of peasants flounder helplessly in a sea of mud.

Would you dare to blow the whistle on Bathhouse Barry vote for someone as corrupt as Trump watch a horror flick inside the Vatican advertise the lies of Nancy Necromancy or play monopoly with Homicide Hillary?

The rantings of evangelists compete with sermons and absolution for sinners by pedophile priests from the Satanic Vatican for faith in the myth of Christianity.

Souls that believe in myths that don't exist holy ghosts and haunted hoaxes have earned the right to eternal life in paradise.

Don't doubt Darwin's integrity ye of little faith who believeth in miracles.

The waves were artificial and the water a synthetic hue. I sat inside the cloying heat and humidity of the steam room. An old man grim as sin shuffled in and sat nearby. Drained with droplets of sweat sliding down my nose I rose and left. I sat inside the spa where jets of air created bubbles in the air. Kids their bodies gleaming screamed gyrated and dived. Impressive hunks made waves as they churned through the water. I began swimming laps laboriously on my back. An Asian lady swam indominatably towards me like a kamikaze. When I began to kick she veered abruptly away.

Sane and crazy Americans not in prisons are free to kill for profit or pleasure execute brothers and sisters mothers and lovers or rape and sacrifice babies to Satan.

Beauty stays ageless unmoved by yearnings addicted to the past.

We cannot think the thoughts of others or dream their dreams.

resentful dreams dark as night sprinkled with seeds of hate beside bleeding trees.

Leave hope behind when you die and ash or bones as your legacy.

Truth is a product the media buys then repackages as propaganda half-truths and lies.

The image of a happy child killed at Gaza will never fade or Zionism's everlasting shame.

amid the detritus of wasted words unspoken thoughts float by unhampered by wind or tide.

The past is where unhappy memories and old ambitions lie like bones unable to decompose.

Doubts appear as cracks in the facade of reality and as ripples on a lonely sea where only the tides and time can be believed.

Invisible eyes motivated by fear probe and segregate shadows individually by size.

Fantasy flees familiarity towards insanity.

Political schemers and deceivers exist in the theatre of dreams where lies are sanitised amd laundered doubts dissolved into the sludge of sophistry and crimes transformed into virtues until the curtain falls.