Pony Rides


Well aware man’s fallen state

Power brokers regulate

We the people animals

Within our propaganda stalls

Await the truth so rationed,

Reality re-fashioned

To stories for consumption,

To play on mainstream junction

Where we line up for pony rides

Missing six guns by our sides

Dawn we proud for all to see

Our deductions you and me

A costume hat and chaps

Spurless, empty gunny sacks

Riders on the soundstage storm

We their cartoons who perform

Within their dream full willingly

Acting out for all to see

Their lawlessness projected,

Victim groups on cue directed

Trotting round their laughing track

Quarters that we only lack

Ride predictably too short

Pony rides our last resort,

Pointing with our finger guns

Other riders come undone.

Should we dare say bang or pop?

Speech a crime we must pre-stop

Clever band of brothers

Who pen us off from one another

Thoughtless, motionless ourselves,

Action figures on their shelves.


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