The Good Men 6 and 45
Life is like being an imaginary tree
In a teeming, tangible forest
On a pursuit with an invisible grail
To no avail our reapings
So in doubt, a story is sewed
To no avail our teachings
Just rebellion of “you must”
Plus understanding of youths plow
That loosens up and refreshes the soul
Exposing establishments rotten roots
Slicing and serving the perpetual
Planting seeds of ideals peeled
Off utopias dream, sprouting from need
From release of constant conditioning
You’re either dying or you’re new
And if innovation must be new
Then stagnation is a leach
For a tree is known for it’s fruit
Not for how far branches reach
So pick when ripe and before you blink
More will be surely bore from new
Ripe or rotten? Good or bad?
Well, that’s up to you
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment