Conscience Rare Read Count : 15
Category : Poems
Sub Category : N/A
Bright smog free sceneryOverdrive, walking, running, pacing,rapping, spacingEnjoying quality company on spectral sobrietys cusp of abstract rangePanhandling a metaphysical light of the revelations of sincerityNever expect anyone but myself to take care of meORANGELINEYellow brick road,To the land of Oz and the ethereal poppies in fields heaven sent.Beyond the gardens bloomingDiacety Morpheus.Compound of antonyms powered and awareness.Pharmaceutical pot luckMixed and concocted until outcome materializes,Shiny compound of earth anew!Bright sanpaku eyes,So dry they water red spider websmouth 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 flawUnaware entirely of the one flaw,The only flaw that matters,In the endThe personaltyThe character of thyself,Barely held together by Elementary skilled patch sewing whilst showingno love,in the train of the undead,of spirits instead which manifestBad energyhaunting the platform with grosspossessed Peoplebarely living,Junkies barely standing,by the doorway to their life and our ownand the endless repetition of tape,purgatory cassetteone telling nouveau Auschwitzian stories of a life painfully existing,permanently Mortal in natureonly 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 wereeither way, who is held responsible in courts of decency andLove?humanity falls behind in simple altruistic individualitywhat conceives our shortcomings,beginnings?where or when do we learn our haves,are not enoughas they clutter each room of the homeso 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 yourselfWhy?Doesn't it seem empty?more so than the average weekdaymorning beat of light?evening cusp of twilightin 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 vulturesvariations identical with classic Route 66 sideshow bathroom break, spectacularletdown.Cheap and fake and not what isadvertisedLike what is left over of pre-Columbian cultureWhen under white greed's controlIf you have a mentor,be it Priest,social worker,maybe psychicSecondary 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 obstaclesTo 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 endedwithout violencetraumadeath.A trip as such can only be rerouted and continued elsewhere,Every choice is a turn,down which road is to be turned is entirelyyour own.
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