The ball weighs heavy on this chain
Swollen ankles clasped web tight
Conditioned filtered brain.
Heavy this lead ton titan ball,
And clinking clunking chain.
Pulling us down down down
Along the spit mud ground
Along this austerity track.
Breaking and broken dreams,
Sit shattering on our shattered china back.
We pile from driven pillar to nailed wayside post
Once wide eyed grasping souls,
Present virtual eyed reaching ghosts.
Ghouls of yesterday’s promise and brighter burning dawns
Better days, current reality mourns.
Freedom of speech an ironic tale,
As free as a bottled sailing ship
No winds to sail,
Inside this bottled acceptance ship.
The righteous and offended hoards seal the cork top tight.
The ball continues to weigh heavy on this Maggie Farm chain.
Down down down in the salt dirt and chipping clementine rust,
The asylum doors have been flung open
The last silenced daggers have been thrust,
And all the unborn ankles, await the ball and chain.
Copyright © 2018 Charlie Hasler.