They will lie and impale you
Throw your bones to the wolves.
They will castrate and frustrate you
Bound for damnation.
They will toss you bits
Of mouldy bread
You will eat the shreds of
Flesh hanging over an open carcass.
Gorge your belly
with the repugnance
of rotting meat.
And they will tell you to be happy.
Be satisfied that your palace is made
Your throne built from the bones
Of the dead.
The floor a sweltering dingy pile
Because it is still a palace,
They will offer you bare bits of change.
Dangle precious pearls before your eyes.
Taunt you with every sort of desire,
your flesh has longed for
They will beg you to dine at their table.
Make you an honoured guest,
If you will only sacrifice
And sacrifice you will.
For they will pour vials of poison
Into your veins.
Drive blades through your sockets,
Remove your tongue with the blade
of the knife
And toss the gun from hand to hand
Playing games with your very fate.
They will psychologically rape
The intellect out of you,
Shoot an arrow through your
Plunge the dagger through your belly
and skewer you like a sunday roast.
You will be nothing but a pile of ash.
They will tell you to sit,
Move like a semi automatic sliding door.
All gear clogged,
Created on a factory assembly line.
Until there is nothing left
Your body a host for spare electrical parts.
They will chain you up,
Beat you to submission.
Lead you like an animal to the slaughter.
Herding you into maximum security
For safe keeping.
Your ignorance, the only chain
Needed to keep you under captivity.
They have fed you fecal matter
And called it a gourmet meal.
Clothed you in burlap
And called it silk.
They will thread wires through your ears
pulse you with electrical currents.
They will radiate your very will to live.
Steal the words from the tip of your tongue
and tell you never to speak.
They will laugh at you,
puppet wire you
and pull you by the strings,
They have made you into the byproduct
of their intention.
They will claim you were their invention,
And you will dance on point
and learn to laugh.
Move like all the other droids.
They will remove the very breath from your lungs
one tear gas,
one vial of poison
one historical manipulation
one grand consummate scheme at a time.
They will call it a Democracy.
Distant Light On The Ocean is an original musical piece, that I composed about two years ago and when I was reading through the poem, somehow the tune of it seemed to evoke the correct emotion for this poem.