Spun

By Cliff Lake

 

Spun

 

Priests and financiers trading places,

Politician’s empty faces,

Innuendos supplant graces,

Causing clear sight to bend.

Newsmen selling online crazes,

Leader’s staring, soulless gazes,

Running sheep through the mazes,

Have you bought the latest trend?

 

And it all spins round and round,

A frantic spiral inward bound.

Behind it all that grinding sound,

And it’s us being ground.

 

Will they let you plead your cases,

Or put you through programmed phases?

Mind you, keep up your paces,

Stay in the lane that you are penned.

Entertaining with inept cases,

Influencers in the empty spaces.

Keep us mules in our traces,

Where is found the constant friend?

 

And it all spins round and round,

A frantic spiral inward bound.

Behind it all that grinding sound,

And it’s us being ground.

 

How much longer can we spin?

Just how long has it been?

How does the end begin again?

How much longer must we spin?

 

And it all spins round and round,

A frantic spiral inward bound.

Behind it all that grinding sound,

And it’s us being ground.

 

Cliff Lake 9/13/2024

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

Location: Wichita, KS, USA

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