The Word

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Kiaro

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In the beginning
There was only a word 
The story as the building block
Of the universe
In turbulent times
I find myself wondering
What kind of stories do we tell for the end of days

You felt it right?
The full system glitch
The rogue novelist with the dystopian twist
Writing the script for the evening news
Politics, propaganda and power
Clown kings and contradictions
Party lines to defend your picket fences
Right or left just mirror images
Refugees washed up on any open shore
Finding only closed doors
Fake news and fare-weather friends

Melting ice-caps
And frozen bank accounts
Buzz words and buzz feed articles
13 reasons why
The absurd is the only truth left to us

So here's how the world ends
Not with the death of rock and bone
But in the post-modern haze
Of ideology set ablaze
And you bet I'm angry too
But let me ask you this
What petty truths can pessimism bring you
If you could bottle the fire-light
Rising over these burning streets
If you could capture the red gold
Of no defeat
Would you sell it
If you could copyright the glow
Of the bonfires on your anger
You would sell out Sephora's nation wide
Call it riot gear or do not go gentle
You'd make a killing
And book yourself a ticket
Off the sinking raft of the 99 percent

Damn, too slow
Kiley Jenner's already on it
Heineken's already buying it
And if there's anything that's certain
Is that even this can be commoditized

Decameron Darlings
What kind of stories do we tell now
When your anger and your dreams
Can be played up in an ad campaign
Where your hopes don't rise
Beyond the cracks of the system

In these angry days
The most radical thing I've seen
Is a heart still soft enough to hunger for more
So bring me your wishing wells
I know they haven't run dry

Somewhere between right & wrong
There's a child clutching a story book
Looking for tomorrows good news
So bring me your wishing wells
And turn them out on the drawing board
Tell me about the world you'd like to see
Rising from the ashes
And I'll be there with you
Telling tales of better days

And I know that naivety
Cannot keep a regime or a body from breaking
That a story means nothing
To a corporation or the Clinton foundation
But everything to the next generation
That will be laying bricks to fix these broken things

A genesis story from the chaotic cracks
Of history's schemes
An affirmation
That the sun rises
As many times as it sets
In the beginning there was only a word
In the end it will be just the same

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