The hearts I have broken,
The wealth I have lost,
The mess I have made,
It is like I have been living for 300 years.
Oh! The heart is crying out,
the soul guilty, my mind racing,
hopelessly, knowing amendments won't be granted.
I am the lost son of the lost hope,
Sliding on a sea of complications,
Wishing to fly with my fins, dreaming of clouds
but there are always new clouds above the clouds.
Unsatisfied, I learn to laugh.
I laugh with my fellow fish
who learned to draw breath above the sea,
and who stopped crying under the wetness.
I rejoyce, for I am the son of the wind,
blowing away merily but briefly,
no matter how much I carry on my path
I will one day cease and be lost,
remambered shortly then forgotten forever.
Searches
appear for
some final answer
to the make-up of
the universe
to what makes me tick~
A wish for a
finality wiping out
all further queries~
Stories are squeezed
for their hidden
treasures~
There may be
whispers
of futility with an
undertone of
freedom~~
I remained like that date
on which no special work could happen.
I remained the middle date of that month,
whose number only kept matching every month.
I remained alone—
like a snare,
like a fading flower,
like a living corpse,
slowly deceiving itself,
day by day.
I don’t know
in what useless race I am.
I never win;
I only keep losing
little pieces of myself.
Yet the days kept passing,
like pages
no one cared to read.
Perhaps one day
this forgotten date on the calendar
will learn
how to bloom.
Until then,
I keep breathing, marking, treading
through each day and night,
as the clock continues—
time moving quietly
toward an unmarked date.
We were born on the downside of everything
Opened our bright eyes to ruin and rot
Fresh coal to stoke the coming hellfire
Those of a religious inclination
tell me that ‘this world’ is pure illusion
That ‘Truth’ resides in the Heavenly Station
though it is they who dwell deep in the grips of delusion
You see, Truth is based on individual perception
which differs from one wo/man to their fellow
Of this they seem to have zero conception
at least by the way they bellow –
that I deny the existence of objectivity
which, while true, is nothing new
Philosophers from time immemorial speak of subjectivity
If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it – on this they chew
Whew! Here I am in my advanced senility
reverting to long-ago ~ late-night discussions of youthful futility
They text,messages drown in furrows of soil irrigation,
Tittering rings hollow,filters hide what hearts should know,
I crawl past bogies,faces that mean nothing-
Modern Love is limping
They scroll endlessly,ghosted signals extinguished in flames,
Their faces lit by others' illusions,souls marooned,
Love needs medical aid
Their bosom are lumps of fat instead of human hearts,
Oaths deleted before we can see them,fade and gutter out,
Longing has download error,and desires lags-
Their sangomas miseducate them
#Sangomas---witchdoctors
The faithful bow their heads
at the call to prayer
and kneel down in humility
but what if no one's listening
what if no one's there who cares
then it's all futility
a crime a waste of time
throughout the ages
what makes them willing to follow
like lambs to the slaughter
a purposelessness inside needs filling
an empty shell wholly hollow
it's all man-made solemnity
with ceremonial trappings
a means to control the soul
disguised in thinly-veiled wrappings
the so-called spiritual leaders
have much to answer for
no matter which religion
not a one guilt-free of shame
to make the penitent cower
tho' all is done in the name
of a higher power
the sun cooks the fences
the guards smoke and laugh
men rot behind steel,
stacked like moldy bread.
over one percent
they die—
nobody counts
except the families,
and the dirt.
a body here,
a stabbing there,
sickness in the cells
that medicine never touches.
no cameras come,
no headlines scream.
just a whisper in the dark,
and silence sells better than truth.
The king loves his creatures quite white
Colored beings make him uptight
From those he’ll secede
Though that won’t succeed
Since leaving this Earth’s not too bright
Victory seemed so close
An accomplishment to boast
We once dreamed against our woes
Now we raise a final toast
To all of our friends lost
Fighting for what we already won
However we paid the worst cost
Losing the war that was already done
We once left the kingdom
By tossing our supply of tea
Now we search for freedom
By removing liberty
We once headed west
We tried to expand
Now we find it a hopeless quest
For we have taken all the land
We have lied
And we have wailed
We have tried
And we have failed
If that is what we’re apart of
If that is what it takes
If Lady Liberty falls upon the dove
Then oblivion awaits
A man tries
To do what is right
But sometimes what is right
Is not what is possible
So a man does the best he can
And the world hates him
For not fulfilling their idea of what is right
And so gives his best
And so his life
Only to be looked down upon
Pointing to nothing
Is a story which may be
Intended as erasure..
But nothing stands
As a word..suggesting
The futility of a word
To be more than a word..
Yet it might be said
The appearance
Of a word is empty..
Hence.the dilemma...
Wisdom dawned, but late
Life is on the verge
Peeping through the past
Omissions and errors galore
Stare in the face
No second chance
The pride, ego and craze
All leave with no trace
Life passed in futility
Living in illusion of hope
Wasting all in fantasy of gain
If at all, I could get one more chance
But, No!
Life is a one way travel
It's gilded in bright colours
Like a peacock butterfly;
It sparkles in splendour
Like a diamond in the sun;
When it rests, it rests
In confined dank darkness,
In a bowel of nightmare
With what remains of a king:
a diet for forbidden creatures.
Now to what gain or profit
Are the swellings of ego
Which defined and measured
His reign of majesty?
I.
The weather is cold. Do you need a sweater?
I feel warm and fine – never better.
Anything I can do for you?
Can’t think of one thing or two.
Want a hot cup of tea?
No thanks, not for me.
A nice back rub?
Not now bub.
Goodbye!
Bye!
II.
Hi!
Oh, hi!
How are you?
I have the flu.
Something I can do?
Can I have chicken stew?
So sir, I have no chicken,
But with toadstools I could thicken.
A nice back massage would sure be nice.
I surely doubt you could afford the price.
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