Erupting from beneath, below
The blanket of yesterday’s beauty
With no regard.
Clawing and climbing with
Ugly, undulating progress
Paved by those that came before us.
Congregating before the pulpit
Of false pretenses and
Paradoxical preachers directing us.
Carving each starving soul like
A holiday feast to be fed to
The masses at the soup line of ignorance.
Pretending to care as long as it’s safe
But doesn’t break in to interrupt
Daily programming ladled for us.
Labelled for us.
Cradle to graved for us.
Picture of and inspired by one of many eruptions in our garden from these lubbers/grasshoppers called devil’s horses.