To Be, Here

To Be, Here

A Poem by Christopher Michael Smith

awake
in a dream
dwelling upon
the unconscious
mindsets of mayhem
striving for all
that is wrong
here . . .

cold
compassionless hearts
resting within
tormented emotions
daydreams of release
temperamental consumptions
gluttons of vanity
here . . .

(eye) hear the whispers from the ether
(eye) see more while asleep than here in this fever
more at home in the slumber
reality is the dream of which we all suffer
to be
godly . . .

fallen
stars from up above
scattered existence
absence of love
lusting for the flesh
the prison planet
of sacrificial death
here . . .

depressed
out of tune
with our earth mother
taking and taking
parasitic cultures
in search to consume
all resources
here . . .

(eye) feel density and heavy weights resting upon my soul
in search for the truth to serve warning to my brethren of this world
the universe gives us the answers by the means of signs
yet we humans challenge our intuition and never wonder why
to be
detached . . .

stuck
society is a bust
complacent in our boxed cages
that we call home
perched in the living rooms
where the living are the consumed
walls providing false security
here . . .

entranced
in the american dream that is financed
success measured by real estate & possessions
corporate class systems
the lowest of the three
struggling for that image
stressed out in a grave of debt
here . . .

here comes the beginning of an era
creation amidst destruction encoded within the letters
blasts of wind carrying messages of scarred landscapes
trembling from the truth of hate breeding hate
to be
avenged . . .

violent
in competition
failing to witness
the stagnant repitition
of our daily lives
nestled in conviction
fear being the restraints
here . . .

belief
foreign in present time
climbing down the chakras 
of the aching spine
challenging rights and wrongs
based upon delusions
it is all a matter of perception
here . . .

(eye) have grown to question the priorities
true knowledge has become the minority
people not wanting to think for themselves
fearing the brutal truths that may come out
to be
cowards . . .

hopeful
in this decision
to spread wisdom
in a poetic transmission
longing to inspire
brothers and sisters
to question authority
here . . .

balance
the will of sacred law
if one soul breaks
we all fall
natural order we have forgotten
clocks now ruling the days
these days of rotten
here . . .

born in the frames of fiction
the result of separating humans from natural selection
experiencing humanity's personal unrests
severed ourselves from the natural order and fell from mother's nest

to be
here . . .

© 2010 Christopher Michael Smith


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Added on June 8, 2010
Last Updated on June 8, 2010

Author

Christopher Michael Smith
Christopher Michael Smith

Clinton, NC



About
Ego sum qui sum - 'I am what I am' Poetry is my creative expression here upon this floating ball of dust called Earth. Nothing feels as appeasing as watching a pen glide across a virgin page, watc.. more..

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