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Day 3: Untitled

 

 

It's all hysterics here and that just means that you shouldn't hear it.

You're meant to stare at it; imagine something real, something clearer.

Even the smoke has shadows when each picture on the wall reminds you the the battle is losing.

Cruising through channels hoping that there's anything moving that you can find truth in.

"Grin and bear it", starts the voices as you're blue in the face looking for the silver lining.

The clouds casting, forecasting grim weather right upon your parade.

And the stark cold faces make your rain a hopeless bitter brigade of following leaders that follow teachers teaching war to fresh eyes, so that they can only see and hear what's glued to their minds in fine lines of lies and see through.

These men idle in solace while the youths are left to pony up a difference.

We're the citizens of an adrift boat steadily sinking like tiny toy soldiers standing at attention in the smoldering sun right under the magnifying glass.

The paranoid perception gets zero reception with the masses, it's chained in static locked away like monsters too strong to strap down.

And the facts now, lie buried alive here six feet too far to reach with scared hands.

A madman's cry for reason as to why we get blank stares to fan the flames of confusion.

We can't reason with intrusion, it's like a fiend on a ferocious frenzy for the next fix.

Powerful arms cradle the weapons jeopardizing everything and anything that dares make a mockery of hypocracy is the enemy, the wolf in sheeps clothing but what they don't realize is that they only need defending against their own schemes.

The haves are constantly taking from the have-nots and we're just stage props in this poorly acted scene.

Guess the "say what you mean and mean what you say" precept is passable only if you are not in denial.

They deny the need to fix this and our battle cries our hymnals of onward and upward cry on alone because we march amidst a crowd going in the opposite direction.

They don't know any better but if we look the other way the promises made that keep slipping through the cracks amplify by a thousand.

And even with the light at the end of the tunnel shining ever so silently, the need to be heard overwhelms and the light they shine seems just a little bit brighter. 

Times like these you gotta be stronger than the next punch, quicker in the next race and 

keep yourself tuned in to the next one because the next channel airing is that of change.

The children are left building piece by piece a new milestone to the tone of a humored crowd. 

Stay watching with your thoughts glued, sanity isn't far behind you.

Take the flicker and take a picture to remind yourself of what was.

They stand behind podiums declaring glory for us lower ones, but we look with inner eyes and there's no denying that the image is distorted.

But look forward 'cause the future, believe we can look forward to it.

It's moving, we're moving, we're changing the channel to rid the world of one more day where we weren't able to say we enjoyed it.

Posted Aug 11, 2009 at 12:00pm

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  • General: My newest poem. Untitled.

    Day 3: Untitled     It's all hysterics here and that just means that you shouldn't hear it. You're meant to stare at it; imagine something real, something clearer…

    Aug 11, 2009

     
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Hay, i'm Melle. 18.Vegetarian.Pansexual.Genderqueer.Pot Enthusiast.Obsessive Texter.Misanthrope.Agnostic Believer.Smoker.Drinker.Nihilist.Algebra Geek.Modified.Musicfreak. Facebook ----> Melle Holman

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