They exist in their own bucket reality
Where man is a monkey
And the monkey is a child with
A handgun
“Our men are on it
We’ll have this all
Straightened out by
Tomorrow, I hope”
But the portal’s far too big
Too far ahead
And there’s something making its way
Around through flecks of shadow
So troubled
So anxious
As are we
Whose ignorance will pull the trigger this time
Our hearts said no
Our souls said no
Our minds said no
Even that split-second reaction before thought kicks in
Screamed NO
So why are we still wondering
Where we went wrong
All your friends for this scoured
Peel of grits and
Irritable but endurable
Sociopolitical ingrowth
I’m already marked
So I’ll seize the pistol
Knowing you’d never
Fire anyway
Thumbing the cylinder
It's not even loaded
Somehow I doubt
For the lack of bullets
You always got your man
You just never had to do it yourself
before now
(Oh, how a very literal dream can become such an allegory. Sheesh.)
1 comment:
This is kind of awesome and by kind of I mean really.
The first stanza is perhaps more true than you realized... and the bit about ignornace pulling the trigger is very insightful.
p.s. I HAD AN IDEA. a way to combine all my demented ramblings and poems that don't fit anywhere else and letters from anonymous people to other anonymous people and random photographs into one giant collection no one will ever want to read. i'll probably hate it by tomorrow, but right now sleepy and headachy and jobless it sounds good.
:) hope life is treating you right.
i seem to have stopped updaitng poetrypoem. oh well, i have a deviantart.
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