Enslaved People Of The Mirage Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

Demons of hate soar above the hollow thoughts
cackling their insanity into the hearts and minds

of the enslaved people of the mirage. A mirror
stands smoked upon the stage and the actors

prance around it celebrating the wonder of
the great deception. Simplistic murderers

detailed the latest adventure that they felt the
toy soldiers would care to march upon. The

leaders of the unsafe world declared themselves
to be honest men while they whispered their

deceptions to their wives in bed. They stood
upon the stage and celebrated the demons

flying overhead creating scenarios of death
which they felt was necessary to trim the

population. Surely goodness and mercy
would follow them all the days of their lives.

Mystic mental morons deeming the duty
of the population which they felt was the

pattern of the soul. How easy it was to
catch the news and count the dead in their

calculator rooms. Distance from the front
lines made their speeches ring with brave

determination while the drugs of life were
fed endlessly into the television screens of

the peopled strands of fate. Freedom begins
with one voice screaming 'we must have peace'.