2 poems about corruption by David L O’Nan “Dirty Money” & “White House-Our Murder”

Conclusion Of The Contract, Handshake
Dirty Money

I will not keep fighting this fight - with
one side invisible.
We, who don't fight with weapons
are casts dumb by our words.
Let's talk 
Maybe, you will find your brain of stone - can
be shattered by the impact of change
Our words can haunt you into obscurity.
Asleep in your dirty money
You rule to be broken,
You're broke under any other temptation
To rule
You are nothing more than an idol worshiped
by the false sacred.
Those falsely afraid.
Those who invented new clouds to pray to.
To make "life" great again.
Attempt to make "life" great for everyone.
There are no idols
Idols don't preach hate into the breath of the world. And
allow us to die in your arms.

White House- Our Murder (2017)

The weaponry was invented for the rebirth
The burning eyes, layered in sand.  The
robotic nazis call him a leader.
They want a war to dance with the devil.
They want a war to burn their erogenous racist ideals. They
are a massacre to narcissism
Watching freedom die with a passion.

They've offered speeches to linger on and one. Never
resolving a true problem.
In which we were seeking answers to.
We are just new generations of soldiers from past wars.
Out on the streets, we will walk to fight 
scream to the walls that haunt the shelters.

When did we lose our freedom?
The minute we branded popularity with hate
Kissin' the flag 
his big grin is a fist
he says go on kiss the flag
While burying more brothers, fathers to the ditch.
He says go on kiss the flag
While we are twitching and burning out our switch.
Kiss the flag
Be honourable, and we shall llive
Poverty strikes, you don't care

We are all a product of falling into despair.
A mother can't feed her child
The tears keep falling, the sweat keeps flooding. You
wipe it away.
Like you do. It's your reality show.
We can't afford to teach, to feed our sons, our daughters, 
our dreams.
You live in the White House, but you've painted it red.
To a masculine hypocrisy
We can't feel anymore
We are numbing through our pain
We need answers
We need solutions
We need to rebuild the flesh of our country with 
every flesh that walks upon this dirt.
You can't kill us all with your Cancer.

Wolfpack Contributor EIC Bios:  David L O’Nan & HilLesha O’Nan

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s