![]() TravestyA Poem by Pete![]() “Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.” - Thoreau![]() Television 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
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4 Reviews Added on July 19, 2018 Last Updated on July 21, 2018 Author![]() PeteBoston, 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
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