"The Fallen"

Updated: Dec 30, 2020

However did gold turn into black asphalt

leaving us dreamless and naked to reality,

pretty bobbles shiny and flawless

are what we seek.

It is not for the sport we strive

it is for the almighty sign of green,

icons revered, line pockets with payment,

but do not resemble heroes.

The apple twice bitten browns with greed.

We need to get back to basics,

as we grow to become haters of self.

Down a narrow path we travel

covered with thorns of ignorance,

blood trails are to be followed,

until the discovery of the less fortunate

is made while escaping our own scars.

Angels we are not, just mere mortals,

searching for guidance in a concrete jungle.

Thundering skies are growing near,

hopefully lightning will shatter the wall,

a wall of wealth surrounds our souls.

24KT black asphalt leads to a house of white,

special interests control reigns of power.

Gold glistens like a messiah adorned in Levi cloth,

saviors seeking saving from raiders,

of our very secret dreams, the American way.

Fear sees the true path of our salvation,

From Wall Street, to Texas oil fields, to Washington.

A triumvirate of sorts.

This rules America from behind closed doors

owning all that is gold,

except that one last drop of sweat,

that tastes so sweet upon the lips.

Timothy Michael DiVito c1993


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