Really

Really?
Is that all you have to say?
Are there no more lies you’d like to tell yourself;
Then to me attempt to convey?
Call it intuition.
Or call it a premonition.
Either way, it’s clear as day,
Your retching face is its own admission.
Or maybe it’s my sensitive stomach,
That turns when watching your deceit.
One would think by now,
You would have learned how,
To mask your dupers delight as you cheat.
Or maybe it’s the smell of adrenaline,
Your body heaves into chest and out your pores.
Which then leak like sweat,
That has every drop profess,
That you’re a double agent saboteur.
And it matters not your occupation.
For the pattern is always the same.
Whether a banker, lawyer, politician, or journalist,
You’re all running a racket campaign.
By all means, use your fancy terminology;
Attempt to reframe and shape the con.
But your elegant words still preserve the germs,
Of whom you serve and with who you correspond.
But I care not if you keep on speaking,
Come on up and claim your prize.
For the more you express, the more you confess,
That you’ve made mammon your real ally.
And by the abundance of your trading,
You have filled our midst with violence.
Not only have you starved the orphan and widow,
You have unleashed a horde of nihilists!
So, you stand condemned and contrary to the One,
Who became a man and would not fall down.
Three times was tested and three times He bested,
Even being offered all the kingdoms and their crowns.
But no, not you, you’re special!
You seemingly love to live on your knees.
Idolizing at the alter of the ephah vessel,
With its wicked and insidious disease.
Oh, how much power and paper have you,
Got stacked inside your corrupted heart!
Don’t you know the more you got,
The more kindling the fire has to start.