The strangeness of our times

The times are not strange
The times do not change
We the people, sit in our cages,
Devising new ways to do old things
And in a room full of extremists,
The circle loses its centre
Mediocrity brings fame
And it goes round and round
Every stray idealist wearing the skin of a cynic
Knows their way to be the only way
They love their friends and hate their enemies
And they fear those who are neither
Wealth may not always belong to a chosen few
But power always will
If one day you feel the pull,
In the form of advice
Or ridicule
Look within for a cause
And travel homeward with both hands empty




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