Cate Blance- The secret dream

A poem that is more or less the rant of a conspiracy theorist and at the same time the plea of a rebel.

 

Carte Blanch- The Secret Dream

 

Cut through the vestige that is my voice

And break the heart you’ve crushed so many times before

Bleed me out, do me in, and just make sure you finish the job

Cause once you start, there’s no way you’re gonna’ stop

Don’t worry bout’ lil' ol’ sin.

 

Prey for dominations sensation,

 

The omni-partisan parade approaches.

Now watch as scarlet rivers run,

Rampant down the ramparts walls.

 

Squalid serpentine slithers.

 

Now I can see through,

The illusion deprived of dissent,

That only your serpent tongue could twist,

Forcing the golden fall,

 

We all missed.

 

The glorious morning war,

Beget by bombers bustling dilapidated.

The highest in rank martyred for our pleasure.

 

Just drop me here, among desiccated rock

Soon to be fertilized, despoiled,

By the blood of a million men,

And children’s tears of a million more.

So bury me under these plains,

Filled with disdain, under crashing planes between planes.

 

Existence escapes exotic erotica

Monolithic hieroglyph machina

 

Destiny delays destruction for tomorrow,

Diplomats disclose lies for today.

 

Barricaded blunt blasphemy,

Playing burial tunes atop sullen tombs.

 

A cheaters lecherous litany theater,

Prescribed by procrustean power players;

The marked makers of my coffin,

The money behind the blade.