John-Ward Leighton

FATE

The ugly brother of Luck
occupies the highest offices
in the hierarchy of power
in the kingdom of hypocrisy.

The cosy one percent
live lives fat and long
on goods and the labour
stolen from the rest.

They face the cameras clean faced
clad in their victors clothes
and the lies fall effortlessly
from their sneering mouths.

Even the language is captive
as the facts are spun and twisted
and their wilful silence becomes the lie
that is their mantra.

Children die for their Swiss bank accounts
and mothers mourn lives that might have been.
Fathers and sons seek salvation in bogus religious solutions
and the smirking one percent put it all down to fate.

They stand indicted, their guilt as obvious
as a flashing neon light.
They push the buttons that arm, aim and send
the smart bombs on their way.

Some in pseudo democratic fashion are elected
the marionettes of their class
they people the conspiracy
that is not a conspiracy.

Their greed and infantile rage,
taken out on our mother earth
to provide them with the useless babbles
of celebrity and excess.

The leadership is bankrupt both morally
and spiritually
and their path leads to the destruction
of the species.

Some say it is written
while others struggle with their everyday.
Some fight and die in pointless exercises of empire.
Some seek their reward in a mythical afterlife.

Some buy a ticket on the chance
to see the handsome smile of Luck
and not the ugly face of their ever present
fate.