Standing Along The Naked Row

Photo by ROMAN ODINTSOV on Pexels.com

Standing along the naked row
Viewing our lives with unfettered eyes
Remaining steadfast throughout
Though cast aside from the allies

Nervous in spite of yourself
Tired of love & life failing to agree
Inner strength to hold you through
Vulnerable like you said you’d never be

I’m Tired Of All The Mouthpieces & Talking Heads

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I’m tired of all the mouthpieces & talking heads
I don’t trust anything on the network news
Congress & corporations are intertwined
Aimed at denying our dreams if they could choose
But I’m not going to buy into their systems
I’m not going to line up for them to call me by name
We have to figure out a better way
Or we’ll all be taken under by institutionalized shame
I don’t want to live in a world propelled by evil
I believe this hateful environment is only getting hotter
Can we not treat our neighbors as equals
What kind of world are we leaving for our daughters?

Smelling Coffee Long Before

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Smelling coffee long before
These tired eyes were ever meant to open
Dreading wakin’ and meetin’ people
No time like now, so here’s to hopin’

The day started & it’s past time to rise
One foot out & eventually the other leg
I’m going to need more of this magic juice
I feel society comin’ at me like the damn plague

 

Image by Mike Kunz from Pixabay

I’m Tired, Weary, Fatigued, However You Want To Call It

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I’m tired, weary, fatigued, however you want to call it
This world is tearing itself apart, with no end in sight
Neighbors can’t stand the appearance of each other
If we don’t swerve, we’re all going to face the fiery night
Reject hate, reject them, reject the world’s system
I don’t care if kindness long ago went out of fashion
Don’t accept your options, make your own way
We need return to art, return to love & compassion
‘They’ are anyone who’ll tell you we can’t survive
Without stooping down to unconscionable degrees
Rebel, refuse & reclaim enlightenment & love
Lead ourselves away from their dysfunctional societies
God reserves a place in Hell for those who spout hate
Whether you believe in Christ or what Buddha taught
Love doesn’t see the differences between us
We can do better; a peaceful way must be sought
Politicians are no more than door to door salesmen
Fraudulent purveyors of the American dreamscape
But we, the silent underground, emerging each day
Fed up with their vision, proof that heroes don’t wear capes

 

Image by Grae Dickason from Pixabay

Drinking Black Coffee Out Of Delta Cups

Drinking black coffee out of Delta cups
The cheap seats listening to Empire Burlesque
Mixed metaphors crawling in the night
Still pondering why a raven is like a writing desk

Dislodged tea parties & cries of Nevermore
The world swiftly swirling all around me
Reducing myself into my words
Hiding now within punctuation & necessity

Unsure of our place in time
Triangulations are stretch marks on the soul
Society wants me to be all shiny
But more often than not, I’m tired & dull

Where do we find our inspirations
The formulations upon our existence
Personalities discarded to the rubbish pile
Pushing us further away within time & distance

Surviving By The Bright Light of Day

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Surviving by the bright light of day
Pouring coffee directly into my weary eyes
Can’t sleep at night since I must remain alert
Anxious; trying to hide my soul’s invisible cries
Gathering my wits to merely successfully exist
Waiting for the other shoe to drop & Hell to begin
Tired of cowering away in forgotten silence
Appearing strong since no one sees the enemy within

Can We Puncture Our Transcendent Eyes

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Can we puncture our transcendent eyes
Feeling fantasies no one can understand
Trapped behind responsibility & expectation
Failing to grasp foundations as we planned
The difference in our souls transmit
Expounded by the beatings of our hearts
Revolutions begin when the cerebral are tired
But their might will never sever our parts
You cannot be weak if you’re truly weird
There’s no time for the molecules to rearrange
These burdens of an unimaginative society
Simply cannot fathom the depth of how you’re strange