Idle time

Like a whore, whose legs are swayed by the jingle of a purse;

So a flag flaps funny in the wind.

No mind, no integrity its pimp like mast erect to its brazen flutter.

Choices we like to think that are made with the depth of integrity, the fulfilment of soul and being;

They are but prostituted, flapping in the wind.



Us many, we deluded mass.

We hope in fear, and fear our hope.

Freedom is a bestial prison of choices.

We dare to dream and damned in a nightmare.



Give us each day our daily poison,

Keep the mind and body feeble.

A tablet, pill or lie.

Tax in life and tax in death.



Ramble and roam with thoughts,

Fall down a rabbit hole.

Wherever that may lead.

We’re gone.