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Nat Alexander Poem
BEHOLD!!! I am!!
Silence.
The vocal minority grip at our sensibilities
and demand our attention outwards.
Monkeys, our smaller cousins that, though looking alike,
are alien in their outlook.
The apes are few and far between,
great spectacles of nature insultingly compared
to that of a simple marmoset.
Doth thou see a leviathan in a shrimp?
For this is the absurdity of equals.
A king sits on the throne, he is reading.
His loyal subjects surround him and his strange binding of sheets.
How dare the king pay more love to this ink and parchment
than the struggles of his land?
The crown is heavy as he looks around,
why do they see him as wrong?
The words of the page grow his mind,
and a new man is born in every sentence.
Is the bird selfish for flying merely because the fish cannot?
Is gold stubborn for not allowing silver to meet its value?
To think as such is to not think at all.
Unfortunately in this sandbox of us
we cannot all be diamonds, yet we can hide in the glass.
The big shards have cut too deep and stained us all.
Now value and harm are interchangeable.
I am better.
I am more.
I am sorry.
The issue isn’t you, it’s not your fault.
A treatment is needed, I could have some fun.
I’m sorry you became this, a product of a failed societal cult.
You deserve the cleansing power of the sun.
Your suffering is ending, hallowed be thy name.
The world will be reborn, a phoenix made by my flame.
Copyright © Nat Alexander | Year Posted 2024
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Details |
Nat Alexander Poem
A creature, a creature of the trees but the trees are Long Gone
The underling of the underbrush is under orders. Not to go to Long Gone
Not to fear because Long Gone are any places better than here, trust me you don't want to go anywhere there
Ha why? they don't have a clear grey sky with cloned white clouds, disorder runs rampant Long Gone is societies pride
The outside floods into houses and the people are pushed into the sun with no where for their secrets to hide
They sing in their madness and eat poisons straight off the walls, the wailing wilds call for them and they respond with a pep in their stride
I warn you not to ask of them, there comes a hefty fine, and you ought to fear the feel of vines masquerading as their hair
We stand here educated in our spires made of stone, peer out of man-made portals to a world mirrored of your own
We deserve these crisp white fabrics, you'd love some furniture to match the template of the ideal home, look down at uniform fabric and be content with the privilege to "own"
We have just one ideal, one community path, keep your eyes on our prize, no not there, over here.
I feel it may be breaking soon
I feel the pressure rise
I feel the roots spreading and opening their eyes
Do you hear the rumble? Long Gone is your freedom now
For the rumble that you hear is your own future hitting the ground
Long Gone is the space for growth, of your freedom and your kin
For the concrete walls around you are almost finished closing in.
Copyright © Nat Alexander | Year Posted 2024
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