ProphetsA Poem by Christopher RobinSomething to pierce society's rose-tinted glasses.Prophets
V1 The Heavens opened, rain came tumbling out,
A thunderous sound, Clumsy but abundantly loud, The cold front plummeting barometers down. Apocalypse now, Our populous is lost in a cloud, Accosted with the frost a lot of commoners doubt. They’re possibly drowned, Apostles to a jostling town, Hypocrisy’s impossible where nothing is found. They solemnly vow, Tomorrow’s where our problems abound, A population worried with a comical nous. They’re probably proud, Accomplished with a commentary how, Impossible a promise full of honesty sounds. We follow them round, Borrowing a sorrowful frown, While the metropolis has blocked us from the sun and the clouds. We blunder about, And plunder what the young have avowed, Torn asunder by the hunger we keep under a shroud. We suddenly shout, How is all this horror allowed? What have all the cowards we empowered let out?
V2 A peace we regret, Was reached between our needs and our debts, Now we bleed for our beliefs received from media sets. Seems it’s a test, To beat us down and squeeze what’s left, T.V. the means to feed the dreams in all of our heads. They clean up the mess, Its seasonal and fleeting at best, Their reasoning and meaning now is anyone’s guess. It leaves us depressed, And dealing with a tedious stress, Yet achievement is the medium through which we’re addressed. Not easy to rest, The sleep we seek is devious yes, Is it really unachievable or teasing us yet? The people are left, But feeble now and nearer to death, They scream for sweet release their needs completely unmet. The greedy forget, How easily disease can be spread, A people- weakened by deceit will start competing for bread. They need to be led, By teachers who can preach common sense, And free the evil feeding on their needless regret
V3 It’s stranger to act, On dangers that are facing the pack, Than to fade away complacently complaining and fat. Too lazy for that, We’re waiting for a savior to snap, And claim us make us pay for our mistakes and our crap. Like rating an app, We’ve basically been trained to react, Our brains enslaved to pay " escape’s the same as the trap. We play to relax, A game that takes the weight off our backs, The aim to place the blame " remain afraid to interact -> We’re practically raised, To back away and practice our praise, Is our vernacular exactly what enacted this craze? Impractical ways, With backward phrases language is frayed, Detracting from the facts as we compact what we say. Distracted and dazed, Too scatterbrained for action or rage, So how can we be fashioned into passion for change? Look back at the stage, And clap your hands for rappers engaged, Let immaculate vocabulary capture this age.
© 2014 Christopher RobinAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorChristopher RobinMelbourne, Caulfield, AustraliaAboutChris, almost 28, live in Melbourne, love reading, writing, gaming. I like to have fun with words. I'd also like to raise the bar a little when it comes to publishing online 'literature'. I hope you b.. more..Writing
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