Monday, 19 September 2016

this is for the ones who didn't make it

You seem trapped like a stoat slowly dying
Lost in a cycle of self-destruction and praise
One finger on the button of the nuclear bomb, hand on your crotch
Could you do it kill woman, children, husbands indiscrimantly
In an instant flesh burnt to dust by the man made sun of Hiroshima

Underlining pain and turmoil married to social unrest
Black slaves in the street know the real pain of the oppressed
Are you reader willing to fight even die at my side
 in an army of citizens swaying marching left right left right
Reaching out hands poised with serated knives
 or will the state do us in and steal our lives
Why not simply save face and conceal the magic of swines

A hundred years a thousand more and were still no closer to peace on earth
Locked in the throws of rapture brought on by torturing your toes
 we languish embedded in a holy war of symbols ruled by an aristocratic asterisk
The rich the poor everyone suffering due to impounded interest and slanted economics
Our world the great leveller crushing us into a small tidy compressed trash can
Of False humility and wickedness black grimy and festering
We grow and improve forever imprisoned in a cacophonous groove
In an eternal return to dance across stars like a melancholy moon
Who speaks "life is so pretty but it always ends so soon"

Onwards upwards climbing pecariously in the pit of hell
The work must be done our minds reforged for a labour ensues
Fighting off depression evil thoughts sharper than sickles and swords
At the same time we are becoming what you dreamt a million times
For Inside us lies dormant the keys to a universe of joy
Like a newborn child humanities essential character is good

No comments:

Post a Comment