I often ponder,
fishing, for that
ever, evasive, iridescent
salmon, called, Knowledge,
and, though, my line, hook and rod,
are true,
the truth, I yearn for, is, always..
over yonder,
because..
the victors on this planet,
always, hold the pen,
that scripts the present,
and, their school of thought,
is not, an Ichthyological college,
but, rather, a pseudohistory, a fallacy, regurgitated, from evil minds,
by ignorant mouths, to innocent pods.
I smell something fishy, don’t you?
You learn thoroughly,
to hold your tongue,
to earn only currency,
do right, not wrong,
do not question,
ignorance enlarged,
leave circumspection,
to those in charge,
believe the lies,
believe the truths,
believe those, that deny,
your own abuse,
you have a choice,
you have your freedom,
you have a voice,
you can go and see them..
The knowledge, you now, so desperately, seek, has, finally, been unredacted..
And, when, “too little”, arrives, that, little bit, “too late”..
You come to realise..
You had a choice.
You had your freedom.
You had a voice.
Look.. there they are..
in the mausoleum.
poorman'sdreams 