Now You, My Son

We're in an age of boring life
where poets play with rhyme,
and women paint their faces bright
and dreamers drift through time;
where all the gods have been dethroned
and pack the butcher's chest,
awaiting feasts, where those atoned
are crowned our noble best.

We're in an age of planting blame,
and dancing 'round, in awe,
an ancient flame, the very same
those slaves of pharaoh saw;
that shines its promise to the night
with visions raised to tame
and coax the beast in man to fight
and blind him to his shame.

We're in an age of ignorance,
where glaring truths can fade
and constitute no hinderance
as specious points are made,
and pliant minds are swayed,
and real is bent and twisted back
to mask, in innocence,
the laughter of those with the knack
to charm through arrogance.

We're in an age of righteous hate,
where men choose groups to cling,
and brotherhood is there for all 
who know which songs to sing;
who pack in rallies, now banal,
and rage on with their king
through spit and sweat, all sycophants,
assured what prayers will bring.

We're in an age where strangled dreams
are left in heaps to rot;
and plastic hope, recycled, seems
to double what we've got;
where proof pervades the plot,
a song of angels stuck in time,
each echo more perverse
and still the melody sublime.

We're in an age, the only age 
that man has ever known.
We've felt it swing from rest to rage
and back, and heard the moan,
as wailing ancients shake their cage
and beg us take the throne.
We offer nothing for their pain
and all their blood has sewn.

Now you, my son, were born with eyes
and ears a lot like mine.
You'll see this world of nurtured lies
and hear the squealing swine
and know that all the knots man ties
are rooted in desire,
and take your fill of everything
and let them see you smile.

Author's Note

Please let me know what you think.

Reviews

[Patricia Wedel]

dearest Poet… we had a Constitution that guided our Days… now we need Protection from the Loose Cannons that destroyed our Morals. It is a Sad Day… but Hope remains and the Sun will Rise after the Reign of Terror. tenderly, Pat

[mattavelli]

Thanks for reading, Pat! :)

[Miss Sharon]

What an awesome write Matt! You are gifted with a way with words that few possess. I am glad I found your work! ~Sharon

[mattavelli]

Thank you for reading, Sharon! :)

[Sherri Moshman Paganos]

Loved this poem. With seemingly effortless rhyme and flow, you comment and criticize our contemporary ways. A pleasure to read! Actually, the style reminds me a little of neoclassicist poet Alexander Pope. Thanks for sharing Matt.

[mattavelli]

Hi, Sherri, thanks for reading! :)

[AlinaTheCacti]

Describes everyday life perfectly. From the beginning, I had once thought that this poem was extremely long and was one of those poems that bore you with idioms(Which half of those words I wouldn't know) but you have proved me wrong! Way too wrong.I Might as well slap myself in the face now for doing what I try not to do "Never treat a book by its cover."

*After slapping myself so hard*

If ONLY everyone knew that they were doing this without their knowledge, the world perhaps will be a better place where all opinions are accepted and hate isn't being thrown around like money.

Inspirational Poems Contest

[andrew mitchell]

Nicely written with tight structure and verse. entertaining matt

[mattavelli]

Thanks, Andrew! :)

[emipoemi]

O-M-G!!!! This is absolutely amazing in every way. Stanzas 3, 4, 5 (particularly 3 and 5) require rhythmic emendations, but other than that this is remarkable! Indescribably remarkable! Well done!

[mattavelli]

Thanks! Section 3 has an extra line.

[emipoemi]

So I see now.....that kind of mars the musicality to a noticeable extent (and since it's stanza 3, after two really well crafted stanzas, I was a bit confused with how the lines flows amidst their line breaks).

[Roland Petrov]

Half full or half empty, I just don't know anymore. The righteous hate is on the television almost daily, from one perspective or the other. The advice to your son was quite touching, as in you touched me. Thanks!

[mattavelli]

Hey, Roland, thanks for reading! :)
ya, the hate makes for great entertainment...
How's life?

[William Liston]

This poem is an absolute gem to read. It has a great message, reflects an important truth of mankind, and your skill in rhyme and meter speak for themselves.
I enjoyed how the repetition and similar structure in each stanza conveyed a feeling of hopelessness, then, in the very last line, you showed us a glimmer of hope. I also like how that last line hit unexpectedly and flowed smoothly despite not fitting the rhyme scheme.
The only thing that I question is the title. How does the "half full" part relate to the poem? Are you alluding to how thinking of a glass as "half full" as opposed to "half empty" is a positive way of thinking, or am I missing something?

- William Liston

[mattavelli]

Hello, William! :)
Thanks for reading and the compliments. The title is bad, haha, but you figured it out.

[Gee]

A treat to read Matt, flowed perfectly.

[mattavelli]

Thank you, Gee! :)

[Windah]

Love you words. Keep writing great poems like this. Thank you so much for sharing.

[mattavelli]

Thank you, Windah! :)

[Great Aunt Astri]

Lovely to read a good poem! Not sure about the advice to the son, though. Sometimes hedonism turns round and smacks you in the head. But you are right ... we should certainly take time to enjoy this World. If you shade your eyes from the glare, it is still a wonderful World!

[mattavelli]

Thanks for reading, Astri! :)
For a while, I've been thinking that a large chunk of the spectrum of emotions are faces of "want". Perhaps the nobler ambitions are a means to that hedonistic end. Haha... You've caught my message spot on!