The Sun carries the fate
Of our future on its back
The Son carries the weight
Of his past in his pack.
The Sun practices beaming
Ready for the summer show
The Son forever dreaming
Of freedom free to grow.
The Sun solemn staring
At a world disintegrating
The Son struggles caring
In a world hell-bent on hating.
The Sun won’t last forever
But will far out last the Son
The Son’s a trifle clever
But he won’t surpass the Sun.
There were selfish celebrations
While we were locked inside
Salubrious salutations
Meant irony did not hide.
Pain, anger and dirt fills
The way that we all feel
Going around in circles
Like a hamster in a wheel.
Once you’ve seen the bigger picture
You can never then return
To believing shallow scripture
That the bourgeoisie then burn.
It’s a time of utter travesty
And Orwellian hypocrisy
Getting hoodwinked by humanity
In deceptive dead demockracy.
Thoughts are running wild
Their hoofs unruly; trample
Cerebellum sands reviled
Scatter, scurry and they scramble
A lack of understanding
As to why this burden carries
Aptitude is demanding
Mind and fear; forever marries
It’s hard to point the pin
If there ever really was one
In self-loathing, selfish skin
That coalesces til it’s gone
Yes, the suffering it stings
But the feeling never lasts
The ‘only hope’ should cling
Yielded tight within the grasp.
When you fear your future’s faded
When you’re growing grey and thin
When your chips have all been traded
And you feel you’ll never win
When you start to wane and wallow
In intrepid, toxic times
There’s a light for you to follow
A light inside you shines
It’s a light that fills your soul
And makes you who you are
Brightens the bleakest, blackest hole
Heals the deepest, darkest scar
In the corpus of commotion
Let that beautiful beacon beam
Across the unforgiving ocean
From the lighthouse of your dreams.
The Mockingbird calls the shots
While politicking puerile plots
The blood it coagulates and clots
And History memory forgot.
Tears pour down Sorrow’s cheek
Hope cries out bruised and bleak
A universal losing streak
Would you want this Earth if you were meek?
The sense of loss from Zeitgeist’s grief
Innocents incur broke belief
Future frowns at Tomorrow’s thief
While pulling teeth for pure relief.
As I walk
The breeze kisses my face
And vacuums
The dusty sediment
Of depression
And anxiety
Which blanketed my tired mind.
As I breathe
The cold night’s air
Fills my lungs
With a deep sense
Of appreciation
For another day of not only existing
But another day of truly living.
As I think
The prisms and pictures
Spinning and cascading colourfully
My wondrous windmill thoughts
Exemplify the beauty
Of what it is
To be alive and well.
And to be human. After all.
poorman'sdreams 