Is It Enough?

A question with no clear answer.

Is it enough when you’re pushed down to the ground

Losing the love you found

Bitten to pieces by the hounds of hate

Listening to every sound and not being able to accept it

No chance of ever correcting it, realizing this is just fate

 

Is it enough to be forgotten

Rotten like litter in the fields, defeated by cold men who would not yield

Slaughtered mothers and fathers, protecting their own kin

Knowing it’s pointless, that they’ll never win

As in the winter grows colder, we drown in our sin

The shark's fins lie under the water, I can’t swim, I’ve become frozen within

 

Is it enough to waste away in an earthly hell

Judged for every smell of hate by people who act like god’s hand

A band that plays with the same instruments every day, getting better any way

Strumming away on human souls

I can hear the torment, my conscience pulls at my cold spirit

But I’m too weak so I act like I didn’t hear it

 

Is it enough to bear it?

To care about all the bad s**t that put me in this dark pit of fire?

Perspiring as I’m pushed down to the wire

The flag of a new people is pulled higher into the sky

Are you happy to burn down the past

They never asked to be burned to ash I can’t cling to memories as they smolder

When hearts are colder than ice it would be nice not to see everything I loved go up in smoke

Another toke on this weed for the good folk who passed me by, I’d like to laugh at my weakness but it’s no joke and I’d rather cry

I don’t even know if I’m really alive without a reason to thrive in a world without them

 

Is it enough to speak my mind?

I find people dine on the idea that I’ve already died

I won’t be fried in an inferno of hate

I’ve already got enough on my plate and I haven’t finished eating the truth

Dead in the phone booth I’m calling out for them I guess my plan wasn’t foolproof

I’m the fool, a tool that was never used, but refused to be at the time it would have helped the most

I finally spoke and broke through the yoke, the weakness, I speak this, seek this happy ending with clenched fists, because somehow I missed the kiss of death and they didn’t

Even if I end up offending the offenders and end our never-ending cycle of torment I will prevent my message from not being sent, f**k the wifi

For I spy a brighter tomorrow, let me borrow a time machine so I can continue to dream for moonbeams to lead me to a new stream of life

 

Is it enough to wish for more?

Are we nothing more than cold sores on a world that couldn’t care less?

Are we pests not worth the loving caress of our mother?

Will there be anything left for us when we tear each other apart?

Is it smart that dropping bombs on this world is considered a better art than my poetry

Of course, it has to be, because blind men say so that cannot see that the sun burns with free life and energy and would rather stay in the shadows controlling human beings like the puppets we’ve become

It can’t be undone, blind men will stop at nothing because they cannot see the beginning of the end that we have set in motion

Sun tan lotion won’t stop us from blasting each other to bits, and we cause our own commotion when our poisons are so potent that even the oceans and ice caps are getting heated with our rage

Just another page that shows humanity is its own captive, we built this bird cage

We are the only monsters inside of it, engaged to our need to faze others and prove we are more human than they are by dooming them to a fate we believe we don’t deserve

Death is looming over us, and our gods are ashamed

Caged in the psyche ward, where birds soared, insane human brains scored another way to kill every living thing indiscriminately

 

 

Is it enough?

To be pushed down bloodied into the muddy ground, never to be found

To be forgotten, shot in our conscience, caught in the pandemonium

To waste away in an earthly hell, well before death, every breath a waste of energy

To bear it, this empty darkness, and share s**t like this depression under our own oppression

Is enough to speak my mind, no matter what the damage I may find to gunmen who won’t be kind

Is it enough to wish for more, no more sorrow, hate, or war, or is that just too much of a chore

Is it enough? No

It’s never enough

I know it’s rough but that’s a fact

The exact truth is you cannot crack through this egg shell, hollow as hell

The sky fell propelled downwards, so let the bell toll, as I fester in my hole

I’ve become full of disregard for rebels fighting against a society where everyone is accepted

I’m infected with the ones who were inflicted and constricted inside the mind of a man who won’t forget

And I bet they thank me for that

Because it couldn’t get any more crowded in hell

Author's Note

A question I ask myself all the time, the answer I feel deserves every last rhyme.


I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.

Reviews

[Jackie]

"Ive already got enought on my plate and i havemt finished the truth"
I love that! And let me assure you this was not the only one i saw that nlew my socks off! You have same insane phrases with so much intensity its just insane.. You write like some of the best peices.. I dig your stuff so much!:-)

[Bear]

Critique: (every day, getting better any way) anyway
(nice not to see everything I loved go up in smoke) going up in smoke
(Sun tan lotion won’t stop us) Suntan
(I may find to gunmen) find two
(cannot crack through this egg shell) eggshell

Review: Great flow and rhyme scheme, the message is well stated that many should relate to. I must tell you though that most people who read poetry will pass on reading a poem over 300 words and yours is almost 1000 words 995 to be exact. long epic poems tend to repeat lines with the same meaning using different words and the redundancy is all people remember. I have a tee-shirt that says "Poets say it with less words", I have a friend who would tell you, your committed when you read a book but poetry is pure entertainment, don't turn it into a job. It is a very good poem so don't get me wrong I like it but just wanted you to know why people may not leave a comment. Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!