The clouds seem solid, no plane could crash through.
Their light-born reality this evening.
September, now a month of bearing news.
Of fallen justice and the world’s keening.
Flight, though that is not the truth behind lies.
The death knell of republic and freedom.
Preached by government leeches and spies.
On screens and printouts serving daily doom.
The honored dead will not be justified.
Until the curtain is raised, the phantoms.
Of great statesmen headed, they do appraise.
Political favors from ghostly back rooms.
So long as liberty is a call to war.
The failures of the system I abhor.