I'm going to make sense of this mess.
To see my anger's end.
Once there was an idea,
Now it's as real as today,
As vague as tomorrow.
The vision that once was
now hunts the pressing future.
I'm afraid.
Years and years gone,
I was anew every day.
Yet,
I am afraid.
That the dream of yesterday,
Would become nightmare of today.
The land of milk and honey,
The land of thorns and aching.
They no longer differentiate.
The man stood and asked the boy,
Am I enough?
Once again I'm forced to remember,
Where the dream came from.
Hate gets you going.
It drives you 9000 miles away from
whence born into this world,
Just a word anyway.
I get it now,
20 years in the suburban of a second world,
Plastic canopy and tattered posters,
Second-hand motors,
Style-less strut,
Overpriced dishwater in pretty glasses.
Folks handcuff to the screen,
Scorning the sins you wish the courage dared,
Eyes craned open to the mirror of your
Painful mediocrity.
I put my life on trial,
And it shared the ultimate reason.
You need a bit of hate in you.
Changing cares none of who or what you are,
It cares about the willingness,
The willingness to engage.
Therefore,
You need to have a bit in you,
A healthy dose of hate.
For you,
Where you are,
Who you are.
AND
STEP
FORWARD
Don't ask.
Take.
Don't doubt.
Do.
Don't suffice.
Want.
Don't suffer for the blunted minds
Run.
The first light of dawn split iris in half by its endless allure,
whispering sweetly
Is this enough?
Answer will last till the end.
YOU ARE READING
It's three in the morning.
PoetryI wanted to resonate some undefined emotions that ain't as tacky as a word. A small collection of poems I wrote when I could not sleep. Or (mostly) of my personal experiences.
