I see the cracks in the sidewalk
They spell out time and a half on a Sunday
The lettering is script and pin thin
But the message wrap’s around the world like eternal fray
Machine thoughts and machine actions
Publicized as truth
And this year I’ll be the one in my own voting booth
They actually think what’s the loudest and has the most emphasis
Is what everyone will ingest and no questions asked
“Just another spoonful please”
When the whispers are the perfect diet
But they’ll tell you not to try it
Mr.foreman with his time and a halfs
Will preach at a less than savory volume
And Stand their ground
Only to realize the foundation they protect
Is making a whispering sound
Out of the crack
Emerges a single root
A rose that captivates all
Not only by its beauty
By the truth it speaks in mute
A whisper in the wind accompanies this heroic blossom and graces the ears of deceived consumers
Mr foreman rethinks his avocation’s
Force fed truth is a rumor
“Clock out men and go home to your families”
“Holiday pay for all ”
“And blossoming for many”
He lowered down to eye level with the rose
Knowing not to compromise its beauty
Eye contact agreement
A peace proposed
