The Spark

They exist at all
levels, idiots of great
height and heavy mass.

Like God with super
sight, they permeate the thin
membranes called normal.

Mouth-breathing f***s that
could kill millions with a swift,
wrongful button push.

And for some reason,
they always shine while the mole
people work away.

Work away their days
for the pitiful pittance,
the almighty green.

They are the moles of
this nation, digging the holes
that the f***s cannot.

Smart managers are
not the norm, just a lousy
dime per foul dozen.

They are elephant
s**t in the front room punchbowl,
a two-for-one sale.

In the backwater
s**t-splats, stupidity is
not lucidity.

The non-teachers live
in the front office playing
the figurehead role.

And they make sure-fire
decisions that would leave a
coal vein smoldering.

Pink elastic tape
and white gauze bind the
torn flesh to the skin.

A watermark for
how their fixes are only
temporary ones.

That maybe a sign
that a place is too far gone
to have salvation.

Even then, who says
beginnings from scratch will yield
anything better?

Stupidity is
the root after all and that
is lucidity.

The spark may inspire,
yet all sparks can ignite the
most terminal flames.

Reviews

[Rene Velez]

Brilliantly displayed my brother, great lines here Ken, there definitely a spark in your creative eye...

[Robbie]

"Work away their days
for the pitiful pittance,
the almighty green."~ and what is left in the end?... for the green is not forever, and we can't take it with us...