Two-thousand eighteen
Clicked in
As the Doomsday clock
Ticked two minutes to midnight,
To find beautiful meadows
Turned into slippery slopes
Where innuendo, accusations, rumor,
Trumped law and order and the system
Of things,
Where a white male
Smiling, nodding, acknowledging beauty
Is guilty of a crime somewhere, sometime,
Where fat ugly minds
Join me 2 movements
Of various ilks,
And like the laundry pod eaters
Spit twisted and troubled views
Into the face of the world.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
From “Gravity Sucks” www.StrangersAndPoetry.com
9:01 AM January 27, 2018
