Half Mast


It appears, as of late, as though, we are always at half mast.

Everyone flying without wings.

Bank robbers without banks.

Cowboys and Indians without a hero.

Nowhere zones for nobody.

The local inconvenient-mart surrounded by splintered beings.

There is no glorified banner of right or wrong…

Good or evil.

Just a setting in which…desolation can dwell.

Peace on earth; a cup of twice brewed coffee…

weak and watery.

The middle of the road…lawless without castles.

Pieces of titled heaven in a used car lot.

Vetted veterans to the unknown wars…

no glory, no banner.

Just a holiday savings at the state liquor store.

Alas, no morals are left for the majority tours…of duty.

Daily helping hands down at the pantry.

Empty church pews guarded by rock star sentries.

Left on their own for fruitless searches.

To unearth nowhere places with placid deserters.

 

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