The Road to Darkness

The Road to Darkness

A Poem by redzone
"

….there are no good intentions here....

"















The Road to Darkness

 

 

Yesterday,

while sitting on the back deck,

drinking my morning brew,

watching the dawn emerge,

the rising sun melting dew;

I was staring at Winter grass

and naked trees.

It was there,

I found myself chasing perfect memories

down the woodchuck hole

of life’s spirals.

As I fell,

flying past my descent,

were all my hopes,

desires, loves,

regrets.

Landing harshly,

I found myself standing

in Shadowland.

 

Shadowland is that small county village

on the path to the big city,

Darkness.

It’s filled with people,

minds only half eaten,

still thinking they’re alive.

 

I love wandering in Shadowland,

sitting just out of sight

on the park bench,

behind the old Oak,

just watching, people gazing.

It is always darker here

with only slivers of light

getting through the leafless branches.

But it doesn’t matter,

as people pass by

oblivious to me sitting there.

It’s what people here do best,

ignore each other,

existing only as ‘self’,

since no one else matters.

It’s funny,

the contortions

people go through

in avoiding any real

social interaction,

practicing self-absorption

and head turning to deny

the existence of human misery,

as we live in Tony Soprano’s house,

enjoying the wealth, but

don’t want to know how we got it.





 







Shadowland,

small county village,

where we practice the art

of self-deception,

and training for our trip

along the path to the big city,

Darkness.

 

Darkness,

where as you enter,

the sharp teeth of

‘living in the USA’,

painfully

rips out your heart,

leaving an empty shell,

a place where

you can’t even see yourself,

or hear yourself scream.

 

Aztec Warrior/redzone 12.29.18


© 2019 redzone



Author's Note

redzone
.....thanks for reading...
NOTE: the art is called 'The Scream' by Edvard Mauch; and the photo is an AP release from the Vietnamese War..


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Reviews

After reading this, I feel a little tangled up, as far as not being sure I'm following your overall message. But there were so many details that hit the bullseye for me: from "I found myself chasing" . . . to the end of that stanza . . . BRILLIANT! Love the way it echoes Alice in Wonderland with a NYC genre. Sad to say, country folks always stop & say "hi" even if it means blocking the road while they shoot the s**t. It makes me sad to read your description of the ways people avoid contact . . . I do remember how that was & you painted it with realistic details! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

Posted 2 Months Ago


So many times dreams turn to nightmares and disappointment comes from observation of what's around us, whether it be people's lack of interaction or situations that go unappreciated. People will be people, in whatever capacity they know and follow.

I hear the blues not only in the guitar but in your words.

Posted 2 Months Ago


Chasing perfect memories can be a dangerous pastime. Half eaten minds....hmmm....so the people who eat them become smarter? Just wondering....but I digress....I enjoy visiting Shadowland. Watching from the shadows...being the voyeur. In today's technological world though, it happens all too often. Sure, people want to leave tweets or texts, but when it comes to face to face communication, many do not know where to begin. I think it is quite the same in any large city anywhere in the world though...and while I know your words have some political connotations, I enjoyed what I took from them. Very "nice", Curt. Lydi**

Posted 2 Months Ago



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Added on January 11, 2019
Last Updated on January 11, 2019


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