Catastrophe and the Cure

A Poem by zachary<

a call to justice for the world as well as a call for community for all those vagabonds as myself.

I wandered in the forest, not yet a victim of the silence. how it feels to be free,
passing by these trees; until a clearing, tall and leering, with the polish of a fog.
colors abound with damp leaves dangling weak from a dormant tree.
dropping flies and overbearing lies"all glittering with simplicity.
their shortcoming are fatal, as the vagabonds like to say.
Lately, unemployed and underjoyed, trying to deepen and darken some pitiful void.
they peddle on, a new alliance here to sell..a candy-coated incentive for rotting useless teeth.
sending villains to the villages, growing stronger every day. but now a shiver,
a fundamental tremor…an alarm for this misbegotten meddler
the benefit, he has failed to see, his downfall, ultimately

the true monster in this forest is me. claws and fangs I do not need; he can’t defeat reality.
his evils now work for me, how, you ask? a simple task,
just requires handshakes, and a toothy smile, a candid chat to clear the air.
I told them they were brilliant; all the while scorning behind my tongue
This must change,
there is power here to rearrange thus destroy the calm which encompasses us all.
Wanderers like me choose to see.
To see the we and not look, book heads no warning though we live in caves.
Romping and roaming on our forefathers graves.
Staring through the clouds
glaring at the heavens
We all cry “we want justice.”
Then we die.