Stains

By Cliff Lake

 

Stains

 

He needs a pulpit all his own,

That he may look them in the eye.

And a bigger microphone,

That he may more loudly lie.

He needs the camera in close,

A fancy pen to sign the letter,

He needs to be third grade verbose,

He needs them to be forgetters.

 

And they start to see the things,

The things that he is not.

And they see the empty hands,

The hands that they have got.

And now he has

Defrauded the frauds,

 So, they begin to see

The stains on their god.

 

He needs to sell the baubles,

That his coffers do not run dry.

He needs them to accept their troubles,

He needs them to not ask why.

He needs them to accept his promise,

He promises everything,

He needs them to accept his chaos,

‘Cause now chaos is king.

 

And now they see the things,

The things that he is not.

Now they see empty hands,

The hands that they have got.

And now he has

Defrauded the frauds,

Suddenly they begin to see

Stains on their god.

 

He needs them to stop with the questions,

He needs them to believe.

If they keep on with the dissension,

He will need them to leave.

He needs them to love him being cruel,

And forget places he went.

He needs them to still play the fool,

But mostly he needs to get bent.

 

And so they see the things,

The things that he is not.

They see the empty hands,

The hands that they have got.

And now he has

Defrauded the frauds.

Suddenly they really see

The stains of their god.

 

Cliff Lake 7/12/2025

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2025

Location: Washington, DC, USA

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