To Be, HereA 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 AuthorChristopher Michael SmithClinton, NCAboutEgo 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..Writing
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