Caught in the Middle

Seed spawned in soil
Long corrupted
Shielded from the impartial sunshine,
Absorbing carefully filtered blood-red watts.
Sounds echoing
From lands a cry’s reach away,
Ridden with confusion,
Mass fed ignorance,
The illusion of propaganda.
Acid-spewing barriers erected
With rusty barbed wire,
Promise of illness that no shot can prevent,
Not even those dispensed by needles.
The sapling grows,
Nourished by crap-streaked waters,
Laced with humus,
Aftermath of slithering maggots
Feasting on decaying corpses,
Lovechild of rage and fear.
Critical considerations
Rendered useless
Decisions made obvious:
“Can’t you see what they’ve been doing?”
“The devil, they are the devil in disguise”.
The D word strikes unease in the preprogrammed minds
An easy ticket to rejection
Of just about anything.
Rebel instinct kicks in
Some spirits adorned with
Bullet-proof vests
Uncertain whether to believe
Their own two eyes
Or that pesky hidden third.
“There has to be a middle ground”;
Impartiality saluted by mockery
Implying lack of spherical implements
Of patriarchal pride.
Clash of the keyboards
Vital fluid spilled in the form of virtual ink
Self comforting tribute to
Haphazardly woven tapestries
Of flesh.
Ever-amusing mass bashing
Of entertainment
On platforms designed for
Mindlessly skimming
Lives seen through dimming filters;
A game we can all enjoy,
From age nine to
Dead-before-their-time.
And in the midst of it all,
The words of the few will be forced to hide
In the shadow of the now-grown
Metaphorical tree
That chooses to extend its clichéd branch
To offer its commonplace fruit to the other side
Till it is burned to cinders,
Executed without further trial,
Found guilty of not wanting to hate.