They've Never Meant to Help You

The 1% are made by Washington
A trillion dollar vote against your one
A President ten million dollars richer when he's done
He's here to rob you with your stolen gun

The legislature lies they're on your side
Believing them ensures no dreams abide
They feed their cronies, don't care if your child has starved and died
Don't be a fool, they've only ever lied

You'd sell your soul to taste a tiny crumb
They sell you poison, tell you that it's rum
They promise promise promise, lie to you until you're numb
They feed you to their sharks because you're chum

The government feeds opiates to you
Their welfare and their wages are the clue
That their eugenics plans remain forever in their view
Their genocidal plans are coming due

You play the game and vote the tyrants in
They rig the game so that they always win
They have you fight each other, fight about their favored sin
Unite, the revolution will begin

Nothing

When markets fall, there's nothing you can do.
When stars explode, there's nothing you can do.

When your true love had fallen out of love,
Found someone new, there's nothing you can do.

When someone will not hear the facts, refuse
To understand, there's nothing you can do.

When Oedipus unmasks to Dionysus,
To show you you, there's nothing you can do.

Your baby's lying dead in her pine crib--
She'll cry no more--there's nothing you can do.

When black holes eat companion stars to points
Of spacetime nought, there's nothing you can do.

When you are making art, if you gain fame,
Or you're ignored, there's nothing you can do.

When antelope are eaten by the lions,
The vultures, worms, there's nothing you can do.

When life continues on beyond your death,
Ignoring you, there's nothing you can do.

Mephistopheles's Lament

I cannot tempt a man with knowledge now,
When knowledge is denied. I cannot tempt
The artists with true beauty--they deny
It in their art. None have the faith to fall.
The wise became philosophers, then they
Become mere scholars and then theorists.
What's left? Temptation of the lowest sort:
Temptation to raw, naked power. Blah!
Who cares? I tempt the worst with what is worst.

On Artistic Meaning

The trees are moving in the Scottish play--
And if you think they're Ents, I cannot say
That you have understood the story well.

And yet I cannot say that you can't tell
Important things that I may overlook
When writing poem, story, play, or book.

I may insert an image that I like--
You'll make a metaphor of a blue bike--
But if I insist "No!" what am I due?

Not all interpretations can be true.
Unless my art has failed, intentions point
To meaning--do not put it out of joint.

Your Glass

You're looking at your glass--what do you see?
Is everything distorted, made too small,
Too large? Is everything opaque, agree
With what you wish to see, an endless hall?
Perhaps you are one of those rare few for whom
The glass is clear as oxygen and burns
As bright to light your sight--you see the loom
Of all humanity, warps, woofs, and turns.
Perhaps, instead--more likely still--the glass
Reflects you back to you and you mistake
Yourself for all the world you see--you class
Yourself the measure every man must make.
If you're the rarest of us, preach what's clear,
You'll find the rest condemn you out of fear.