Wicked Lies

Preternatural Harbor ~ Philip Brent

With me sail away for a year and a day
To find where the plastic island floats
Greeted by people who’ve found a way
To survive in this world of harsh notes

From any finding too much not enough
Whose robotic servants never talk back
They’ll tie your shoes, button your cuff
No human slaves, for they fill every lack

Oh what wicked lies they do tell
People who say our world is well

What of those who have been forgotten
Blamed for all ills, marginalized, vilified
Living in slums and a world gone rotten
Smothered at bottom, yet have not died

Or escaped to the wilds and off the grid
Sacrificing technology to get a better life
You don’t get shot by a gang, cop or kid
What’s lost is worth the slice of the knife

Oh what wicked lies they do tell
People who say our world is well

Golden chance for those who sit on top
Less than they think victory will achieve
No human contact, life may as well stop
No more urgency from what you believe

Those at the bottom slide lower than that
An ocean-borne plastic island seems ideal
Plenty of fish, if tainted, no fight with a rat
And still, liars tell us we have a great deal

Only you decide what you are willing do
Withhold censure, no matter how you go
If you step up to the line as one of the few
Keep your head down, to go with the flow

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