The fools' show

Charades made by ignorant fools.

fools' show

Irony is upon us in a golden birth.
Illusions crowding our atmosphere of utter confusion.
Regrets on every mind, mutterings upon their lips.
Who shall drive away this abstract tyranny?
Souls begetting emptiness and numbed finger tips.
They pointed to a stream of doom.
Fancy but upon whose belly poison churns.
And the ill-fated fools that grabbed their cups.
And whose parted lips excused some portions.
They did meet doom.
A wandering soul told me doom had a wry smile.
A picturesque curl upon its mischievous lips.
He said it with a gallery of irony.
A fool he was and a bard I was.
I had for long coveted wisdom since I was young.
Made an inscription of it upon my skull.
I strive for wisdom, ready to lay my life for it.
Then I realised my nostrils smells the tingliest of wisdom.
And even the tiniest of ignorance.
So how shall I not read mockery upon his lips?
A soul on its rugged road to hell wanting company.
Upon whose comfort he shall shuffle to the gate of hell.
I waved him a vibrant good bye.
The very mockery he hid I embedded in my farewell.
I shall stand a guardian on earth.
Keeping the road to doom tougher than a saint would dare.
I shall fight with words that yet
Speaketh in multifolds why doom should be dreaded.
For the fools' ears shall grow prickly to my words.
But the wise ones shall twitched to its comfort.
To gather themselves in departure.
To Abandon doom in its castle of ruins.
I will let them see their innermost splendour,
Their lusterless wisdom that we shall polish to diamond's sharpness.
We shall together Mount reined hides.
And cloaked in silver armours we shall ride.
For the very glory of a golden-age heroic.
The strive to put an end to the fools' show.
And them we shall meet at the stream of doom.
Dining in shame and wining on venoms.
There we shall greet them with our bounty of goodwill.
And cut the foolish tongues that dare whisper against us.
We shall find a shelter for their shames.
Some antidote for their venoms.
We shall wash them clean of their Grimes.
And let them see the light of the wise.
Then they shall learn the very hardway.
And curse the tyranny called doom.
That lured them into the way ward's way.
In their eyes shall be found a new found joy.
That now they are free from Doom's own thorns.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

sometimes i do think ignorance is bliss....

the more we learn, the more wisdom we get, the more we realize how screwed up this world is, and how scary.

a very thoughtful piece of poetry that really makes a statement as to just how not golden this age is right now...but your poem also shows hope at the end...and it is ironic...there is hope in doom.

[Abd-afeez]

Thank you very much for the review. Hope is the one thing a man should never lose. it is mostly never over with that. It is a better choice to trust that high odd chance that's positive for us than trust the low odd chance that's negative for us. We always never can tell when luck will smile on us. All.we have to do is keep up the faith. Thanks once again for the wonderful review. Have a fantastic Sunday.