Belief in a Time of Tyrannical Uprising

listen to ‘Belief in a Time of Tyrannical Uprising’ on Audioboo

Deadbeat. hero. superstar

celebrity. glimmer. fear

beads a luster all its own

remaining strong when strong

is but emotions faked thus far.

Skylines still react in varicosity

blues, red, purples-grey tint,

reframed the dominion of the

filamentary induced dead-set

dichotomy

In a vast expanse of what remains,

the stars rear their eternity and

rub our wounds with infectious

salves

While fecundity is still in this singe-scarred deck,

for such a card to place its lead, upon what wisdom

would one tread, in days where norms live long—where soil’s been

but a lonely place—one to solely sow remains left dead

Caveat emptor, everywhere—a fact reminded daily of—

whence amalgams blur the liens seared of/between, sheltered discordance and cacophonous distends—a time, not infrequent to view, the twitch-work toggling of a forefingers dysfunctional bond—split in symmetry

The Carcajous, dwindle as do all—left in diminished stature, living

through instinctive tracts alone—where uncountable has been the distance between what stands today and the lost state of retraction

as do the phylum’s dreadful laws of diminished return—cajoling the sensory into dream—left dwindled by verisimilitude and the undressed harnessing of questions idling

Flesh, is flesh, where despite the previous epochs of ill-sown in bigotry, the stains of time, has lost it’s bias, differentiating only between those with pulse and those in whom hope’s long since been redacted from—where spondees lilt in trails left in ruins, scourging fully about—in the unshackled fetters inherently implied, in the sinful constructs of man—exacerbating the still-born tragedies breathed into the these ever-wandering tribes—characterized fully by the ravenous hunger, mirrored only by the exsanguinated  shells they’ve become.

Deadbeat. For lack a better term

starlit still…are the hope-filled eyes of children,

our own and those we’ve been blessed to tend

hero…each day, somehow, our status is reaffirmed—

Never illustrating the sheer terror each second spawns,

ever only moving in trails that bridge each gap of safety, together in what we only hope to remain unbreakable links of a most frail chain…

In their gaze…you see their relief, belief…you witness the idolization they imprint upon, unto you…Stares you choke back the tear’s an unkind reality offers…yet, these children represent a future, one you believe cannot exist, but they believe—

And this is something you are not willing to watch become replaced—and in such, you push forward, hiding back pessimistic posturing, choking back the deluge of tears…somehow, this reason for being…becomes enough…to deceive yourself…(into the ever-outstretched arms of a faith…you can’t believe you ever chose to ignore…)