All Things

Of all things
New and old and constant,
My fingers fight and fail
To grasp onto what is real.
When my ears and mind
Drown in propaganda,
In biased falseness,
In music and rumors
And this and that
And more,
The only thing they yearn for
Is truth.
Refreshing simplicity.
But it never comes.
Rather, my own blind society
Storms in,
Steals my attention,
Pulls my play-doh mind
Towards its headquarters of
Listen-to-us-we-control-you.
The noise floods in,
The light box flashes,
We laugh at nothing.
We cry at nothing.
We create this same nothing.
When will it end?

Reviews

[...]

. when you create more and more heart-stopping poetry ... it cuts, slices and shreds ... it takes one on a journey of brutal introspection ... there's so much you know ... and look how you share ... anyone would be inspired ... hope you never let go of the machine gun paul mentioned ...

[paul]

these words seem like they were shot out of a genius machine gun. splattering the page with beauty. amazing poet, you are

[Andrew]

This is incredible, the first time I log back in and start browsing I find a piece that exactly fits what I'm thinking! Keep up the good work!

[Joshua Donahue]

very nice piece. i enjoyed this!