Truth for Sale

Damn if I haven’t had enough of this same old argument

Left wing, right wing, but from the same old bird

Cycles circling a spinning centrifuge of endless nowhere

One said another said, said the one ahead of the other

And then the up and down and back and forth again

Whether moving the goalposts or moving the tee

The playing field is changed to meet their needs

Two and two no longer equal the correct answer anywhere

Right is only right when being wrong is no longer right

And then the definitions are repurposed and redesigned

Your dictionary is now a perpetual motion machine

So many tracks that a railway conductor might be confused

Switching from rail to rail, head to toe, tail to tail

Three card monte decks piled up on a slippery slope

The never-ending ladder of continuous climbing

But to what avail and to what locations and then why

Doublespeak for the triple and quadruple speakers

Both sides of the same mouth spouting nowhere nonsense

Practiced practitioners of polished platitudes prevailing

While some eyes mist and others strike a pose of defiance

Yet both remaining opened to the never-ending hypnotism

And sweet honey potions pour out in endless snaking tails

Heads with words keep regurgitating the recycling

Running the spin cycle on cyclone until the batteries die

Virtue signaling but to whom and why and for what ends

Texting, typing, posting, skyping, postulating and cheering

Snooping, stealing, washing, wiping and repurposing

Spin the dial until you get a winning number

Then capitalize, glorify, magnify and intensify

Wind up the heads, open mouth and insert the words

Every channel, every outlet, and every voice all repeat

Messaging manipulation, mass produced in massive methods

Echo chambers inside of echo chambers within walls that speak

Incite the crowd, do it loud, and make it always front and center

Stories told, stories sold, keep them fresh and keep them bold

Bring it in, then spend and spend and spend some more

Making sure to buy the ones who control the doors

Going once, going twice, sold to the highest bidder!

Truth for sale…

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Political Poetry Found on this Website

Dystopian Poetry from R.J. Schwartz

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R J Schwartz

I write about everything and sometimes nothing at all.I'm fascinated by old things, rusty things, abandoned places, or anywhere that a secret might be unearthed.I'm passionate about history and many of my pieces are anchored in one concept of time or another.I've always been a writer, dating back to my youth, but the last decade has been a time of growth for me.I'm continually pushing the limitations of vocabulary, syntax, and descriptive phrasing.

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