consider eight
different ways, eight
different wastes
of the time we wish we could bottle
so strongly we crave stability
surety, security,
that we all die trying
to affix pat labels
to strange phenomena
using words we do not know
rip van winkle's caveat is lost
in a metaphoric maze
seeking el dorado
with preconceiving eyes
lost in cloudy dreams of wealth
we miss the gilded sky
we want to revel in dominion
but our hearts crave servitude
our weaknesses uncloak
but it's 'the emperor's new clothes'
and denial and self-aggrandizement hide
our naked nature's shame
it is so much easier
to hate, to blame;
so we become the victims
of our own nightmare dream-machine's reign
the present is unpalatable
the past within seconds fades
so the future is where we make
our home
our hope
our precious lives
and seldom stop to realise
that the future is the least concrete
foundation which we might choose
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Subscribe
Flag Writing