(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

Put Your Boots On

If truth and reality had been the driving force,
That powered this weakened engine...
It would had all focused to remain on course.
And none of what now is offered...
To soften and buffer the suffering,
Would exist.
There would be diligence on the lookout.
Instead of self serving selfishness...
Stuffing pockets.
While passengers were being pilfered,
By an overglamorized hype...
About a quality of life.
Stolen right in their sight!
As those self righteous,
Took a hike!

Here's the deal.
That engine is,
And has been crusting to rust for years.
Dry your tears,
My friends.
That engine you've depended on,
For the ride of your life...
Has died.
The ease of your journey has glided to a stop.

Put your boots on!
If you dare to look from your windows,
You'll be shakened.
The depression has progressed,
From a recession recently professed.
Put your boots on.
There will be lots of BS...
To walk through,
To get to the next destination.
Bring your medications,
And prepare to numb your senses.
Put your boots on folks.
And get ready to abandon those freedoms,
To do as you wish.
Or lower this reality on your priority list.

Put your boots on!
The engineer now in command...
Demands on hands on deck!
Be ready to wipe sweat,
Off Botoxed brows and tightened necks.
The heat from the cleanup,
Is about to be felt!

Put your boots on!
Your shopping until you dropp days,
Are done!

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