Ken Allan Dronsfield writes

To Breathe or Not

Will someone please explain;
why I should bother to breathe?
Why take another step forward
moving closer to obvious oblivion?
Maybe I'll strategically withdraw;
way back within my scarlet aura;
where a comforting gold yurt exists
floating there in a murky blue haze.

An oasis for Psilocybin trippers
and amoeba-like shadow dwellers.
Perhaps I'll just awaken from this
rancid fantasmic imagery and break
through to an orgasmic reality while
sipping on a large tepid green tea.
I breathe not; but my choice is void;
auto function appears to trump me.

I feel strangled by a fortuitous life,
where oh where are the good times?
An entire country living but a cold lie
full of deceptive demons we've elected.
A place where we spend millions
guarding poppy or oil fields overseas,
as our Veterans die on the streets.
Homeless, hungry, frozen, forgotten.

Proud we once were, as tears fell freely
when our National Anthem was played,
but we tremble now while standing and
watching our flag burned on our campus.
I want to go back to those good old days,
I want to live in a Rockwell painting with
a cold coke, while my trusty dog smiles.
Yes, today it's tough to take a breath.

Coca-Cola ads-- Norman Rockwell