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Broken morals at every turn,
announcing your signs of disorder:
you attempt to divert our focus
with your needs.
But they are not mine.
Offering your perfumes and your cars,
your wares of all sorts
you beg for our endeavors
but I will not buy.
Airing your half-truths and opinions,
with crooked smiles for your minions
seeking our trust
from the TV ,
but I will not watch.
Selling fear and unrest,
help for the oppressed,
you write your debauchery
but I will not abide.
Like a thick fog we must muddle through,
pressing for our attention,
sure we are wandering in the dark,
you are there,
but I seek the light of day.
For PFM, who has lived his life as this piece reads. May we all be so strong.