deepundergroundpoetry.com
We all fight demons
We fight demons.
Not the ones that Christians immortalize in their horror stories
Or the ilk that other Religions portray
With oh so much artistic licence,
Or the ones Japanese Hentai are so fond
to have fondling the maidens.
No.
We all fight demons.
From the woman down the road conflicted over whether to buy
that brand of kitchen paper with the elephant pattern
or the brand that is far cheaper and the store's own,
but surely will need twice as much to clean and
Anger her husband about her poor spending choices, Again.
To the student in the next town stuck in an ethical quandry
whether to sell their soul to Capitalism to pay for their Atlas fees,
Or miss out on a few boozes and not sell logo-marked clothes
to the damned and lost fashion slaves of prosperity.
To the MP desperately trying to do some good in politics
without getting caught up in the newspolitics
or the media maze where
HMS Truth flounders in the Advertisement Storm
Battered by talk about talk about talk without being Talk.
To just any man walking down the street who is still a man
without being, that type, of man,
Or a caveman with a dicksword that wants to thrust it into
Every passing woman who looks like a slut but
Wants to be noticed and loved and not left alone with
self-loathing, chocolate, and loaves far too big for one.
We all fight demons.
Its what makes us Angels.
Not the ones that Christians immortalize in their horror stories
Or the ilk that other Religions portray
With oh so much artistic licence,
Or the ones Japanese Hentai are so fond
to have fondling the maidens.
No.
We all fight demons.
From the woman down the road conflicted over whether to buy
that brand of kitchen paper with the elephant pattern
or the brand that is far cheaper and the store's own,
but surely will need twice as much to clean and
Anger her husband about her poor spending choices, Again.
To the student in the next town stuck in an ethical quandry
whether to sell their soul to Capitalism to pay for their Atlas fees,
Or miss out on a few boozes and not sell logo-marked clothes
to the damned and lost fashion slaves of prosperity.
To the MP desperately trying to do some good in politics
without getting caught up in the newspolitics
or the media maze where
HMS Truth flounders in the Advertisement Storm
Battered by talk about talk about talk without being Talk.
To just any man walking down the street who is still a man
without being, that type, of man,
Or a caveman with a dicksword that wants to thrust it into
Every passing woman who looks like a slut but
Wants to be noticed and loved and not left alone with
self-loathing, chocolate, and loaves far too big for one.
We all fight demons.
Its what makes us Angels.
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