Hardships Butter Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

The stars of society,
great notion once did scintillate;
their glow burned too fast,
ash, cinder, sloth, agnominate;
what, gifted fate's skewers,
sole reply, a dross adumbrate;
life, guts all souls;
death's head did spirit ablaqueate.

Court not, the rule in justice,
culpability is the blame;
where evil spread, ascribe strifes Id
as quoting Boehme;
earth, is food for worm,
demands flesh to whet its loam;
mankind in greedy lust,
curst promise, to dream venomed.

If justice, is synonym for bread,
equality is its spread;
they, are symmetry to life
and health in living's thread;
fed to profiteering few,
who cause, life's morbid dread;
they, will feast to death,
for earth, leave not a shread.

Life's cauldron steams,
beneath fires we can't control;
sought, is gentry's sweet butter,
democracy's decontrol;
fed on schisms,
palates unsatiated by life's slop bowl;
rejecting meals context,
and savor rubric of future whole.

Survival, quenches thirst, of each
who seek life's bread;
hardship futile postulate,
hungry souls crave words said;
tasty freedom's tout,
cannot be minced by thirst misled;
each, will eat, this buttered bread,
or all, will wind up dead.