TravestyA Poem by Pete“Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.” - ThoreauTelevision teases and taunts with a plethora of parasitic propaganda. Giving just enough rope to hang ourselves. The bony hand of Hell holds the remote control. Two-faced pale like old snow. Petulant and pimpled. Expressionless. Stoic. Neither laughing nor smiling. Only black and white. No shades of grey. Life is a marathon. I'm a sprinter. I'm still young but I feel old. World zigs whilst I zag. Tossed aside like an old dish rag. Corner of my eye, still a glint. Can take a hint. Preferring to drop one instead. I've run the gauntlet. In neat little rows. We all wear masks. In a comedy of errors. Living our lives like office staplers. Barely holding things together and no one really cares. Armies march diligently. Looking for a reason. Abhorring treason. They roll up the sidewalks at night. Whilst I hold earth upon my shoulders. Sweeping the days trash from the gutter into the river of righteousness. Compass points true magnetic north. What is true? Where is that? Why can't I ever get there? I float like there's no gravity. Fighting the good fight. Never belonging to their club. Not even desired. Membership denied. 'Tis nothing but a tainted, twisted ... ... travesty ... © 2018 PeteAuthor's Note
Reviews
|
Stats
178 Views
4 Reviews Added on July 19, 2018 Last Updated on July 21, 2018 AuthorPeteBoston, MAAboutI love reading, writing, music, nature, God and feeling emotion, not necessarily in that order. To me, these things go hand in hand. My favorite writer is Henry David Thoreau. I think he was a geni.. more..Writing
|