The clockwork

I vision of sorts . Day 1

Seek more noise shall we , for a night of ultra violent is before us.
Drunken fibery and laughter echo through these streets.
The howling of hell hounds , sniffling nostrils.
Inhale the aroma of unmaintained  sewage and poverty.
Levels of seek and destroy bounced off these walls.
A bitter sense of envy portrayed as a breeze ingested by all.
A famine immune to the fraud.
Jealousy seeping through every opening pore.
The inner kore of one's self dissected and ignored.
Troublesome shadows have bestowed  upon us.
They linger when Ray's of sun bathe us.
Identity a crisis of self portraits.
A canvas of kolors attrakt attention,  although we gaze in amazement.
The truth is one's own revelation.
A conscious acknowledgement of self sins.
An ignorant bliss, that lay way to one's personal derailment.
We the clockworkers tick to this particular tock of orchestra,  and study behavior.
Human nature entails be still when eye to eye with the face of danger.
Lessons jot down shall we.
Today is day 1 in a clockworkers orientation.

Author's Note

I acknowledge all opinions and appreciate them

Reviews

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

A very dark vision of a society in destruction. It echoes our own and perhaps foresees this dark future we are heading towards. This is a really eye opening poem. Thank you for sharing your art.

[Ezel_Amaru]

Thank you for your cander . The darkest alleys are the ones in our mind. The future is bleek but we muster through it , subconsciously