Nicholas Rao Poet Lyric

Dystopia

Here a mansion, there a metal cube,
Now a street, and now a numbered route,
Here a faith and there an attitude,
Now pajama bottoms, now a suit –
So many colors blended into white!

I watch the people pass like frantic ants
All vaguely trusting that they share a hill,
As if in some symbolic foreign dance,
Seeing no end, they yet possessed the skill.

Details un-wed by purpose flood my sight.
What shall I make of this strange unity,
Both cause and balm of modern man’s frail soul,
That drowns his need of meaning in a sea
Of diverse efforts toward an absent goal?

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Leo Larry Amadore October 28, 2014 at 6:21 PM Very well written; I enjoyed your use of language as it should be used. But, though there is much to be said for unity, diversity and acceptance of diversity, in my opinion, is greatly preferable.

Robert Rekab October 28, 2014 at 12:25 PM No goal No Plan No Plan Chaos Chaos Life by default Drowned, diverse efforts, an absent goal. Nice write