Conscience Rare Read Count : 15

Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A
Bright smog free scenery
Overdrive, walking, running, pacing,
rapping, spacing
Enjoying quality company on spectral sobrietys cusp of abstract range
Panhandling a metaphysical light of the revelations of sincerity
Never expect anyone but myself to take care of me
O
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Yellow brick road,
To the land of Oz and the ethereal poppies in fields heaven sent.
      Beyond the gardens blooming
 Diacety Morpheus.
    Compound of antonyms powered and awareness.
    Pharmaceutical pot luck
 Mixed and concocted until outcome materializes,
 Shiny compound of earth anew!
 Bright sanpaku eyes,
 So dry they water red spider webs
mouth sufferers drought,
tongues sticky with white film replaced the red bumpy organ of moisture.
Pressure to speak, lecture and brag
"Have I told you all the groovy things about me? All the things I can do?"
Reflection fixating every flaw
Unaware entirely of the one flaw,
The only flaw that matters,
In the end
The personalty
The character of thyself,
Barely held together by Elementary skilled patch sewing whilst showing
     no love,
in the train of the undead,
of spirits instead which manifest
      Bad energy
 haunting the platform with gross
           possessed People
 barely living,
 Junkies barely standing,
 by the doorway to their life and our own
 and the endless repetition of tape,
 purgatory cassette
       one telling nouveau Auschwitzian stories of a life painfully existing,
       permanently Mortal in nature
only watched by ones empty enough of basic humanity,
       incidentally void of the perception of empathic relative awareness,
       an amusing way to pass time between train routes,
       at best.
never helped by those capable,
for such a person won't find themselves in such corners of depraved society,
         ignored and distrusted by the hurt and the damned,
 if they were
          either way, who is held responsible in courts of decency and     
          Love?
humanity falls behind in simple altruistic individuality
      what conceives our shortcomings,
  beginnings?
 where or when do we learn our haves,
    are not enough
 as they clutter each room of the home
 so much so that year 2020 is giving even the man most in desperation the,
          least of your Change,
 isn't possible?
 too much to Lose? 
 where does empathy open up?
 when do you see the plights of the fetal man you pass by?
 when do you finally ask yourself 
               Why?
   Doesn't it seem empty?
more so than the average weekday                
               morning beat of light?
                   evening cusp of twilight 
in the city of lights and angels and energy,
             something feels like mother natures coming down, 
descending perpetually from,
                 The Trip. 
                 Did you know you're on a trip?
         Remember asking where your life was headed?
      was that not the classic car trip line,  are we there yet?
        Vacations flying metal eagle      transatlantic, 
Landing on top of brown skin,
colonizing cultures with white skin resort luxury vultures
         variations identical with classic Route 66 sideshow bathroom break, spectacular
             letdown. 
Cheap and fake and not what is      
                      advertised
Like what is left over of pre-Columbian culture 
       When under white greed's control
If you have a mentor,
      be it Priest, 
              social worker, 
 maybe psychic
         Secondary opinions,
  To guide you in tough life choices.
         Would it shock you to see that compared to the use of a thomas guide or google maps?
     A tool guiding you through your life's obstacles
      To all the exaggerating photos posted to your instagram, 
      edited to enhance the aspects of the image to highlight the thrilling, and minimizing any engagement killing.
      Is this not simply just contemporary viral replacing of the scrap book of trips in past days.
Isn't life a long strange trip?
        On the road of unexpected destination?
        One of such that cannot be parked,  or ended
        without violence 
                                 trauma
              death. 
A trip as such can only be rerouted and continued elsewhere,
        Every choice is a turn, 
down which road is to be turned is         entirely
          your own.

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