The wailing lazy

From the couch they scream indignation
And vent their pent up threaded frustration
Social justice from a sitting position
Got the outrage just lacking the mission

Photos that were made in a factory
cutting out the truth with politically correct scissors
Hiring the victims to horrify the listeners
Creative tragedies catered to fit

Someone just called the bluff
by comparing the reality of third world rough
Now open eyes see over privilege
not even grateful for how you live

Faceless

Here I am
Mirror a fisherman
On the end of the jetty

My chin wider at a smile
My bed a whale
My beard a captain
my mouth a ship about to set sale

My eyes slipping on the sights
sipping up beauty
My pupils fruit seed lights
planted on a far off jungle route

My cheeks fly off like frightened birds
And my forehead bounces off my head absurdly
My ears disappear before they even heard

And now I have no face
Thank god, like a deciduous tree losing it's leaves
It's not about the surface, just what's underneath