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Stalwart Heart of Stone

So who would like a tour next?

Walking through this new vortex

Where fake friends have more sex

and careers die from one porn-text.

Watching Dateline just outlines

with 20/20 vision a guideline

to get away with hate crimes,

while "Real" Housewives take nosedives

it's all blurred-mouth bleeps of absurd lies.

TV is a visual lump meat

Like we've hopped in the bait-car

Flabber-maddened over miserable Trump tweets

They should shake off

like dandruff from pant pleats,

but this texture is course--

The visceral chump beef.

I paint these deranged scenes to protect

a saint/God-like complex,

Because our human being style has defects--there is no honesty to detect.

I sit as stalemate research voyeur,

an accomplice to a mental murder,

no end in sight, except blood-fights,

that churn the guts

then turn screams to murmurs.

I force my wits to witness this

creative, yet incensed dethrone:

We've fallen from a heightened state

into a pit I can't condone.

Perhaps this is the narrative

I've told myself since we were kids

That, "Life is only worth to live

if you're the master of the world."

That any less is blasphemous,

to tend a garden (pacifist),

To turn a cheek, not pass a fist,

This ice shelf life is in mid-drift,

We'll multiply our activists!

Make selfless acts with selfie-sticks!

Let's break some bread, not heads and bones.

It breaks

my stalwart

heart of stone.

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