social

Structural Integrity at Zero

With logic tossed out the window and reasoning a thing of the past, the outrage culture takes center stage in our media run society. This is a short ranty poem on the subject.

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Guilty conscious ringing off alarms in the darkness. It’s haunting
Daunting the shifty nonsense. Swinging pendulums lost in the crossroads
Demon deals hidden by the cornfields. The chase of success is too real
Flaunting the wrong things ‘till the swan sings
It’s been too long since cashing that check from reality. It’s caustic
A cost that won’t stick. Caused by old tricks. Stone moss that grows thick
Structural failure, neglect, the behavior
Rejected by the savior, reasoning. Calculating to slave work
Seasoning the flavor of…

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Sliding Slime

The forces of nature depict monsters and strangers
Causes of imminent danger
Blame hurts but disdain burns greater
Like inflamed coal burning black smoke
Up the ass and passed the damn throat
Never mind the trash talk
Air-head, the inflated savior
The last hope
Grave digger
This white nigger who stands on stacks to feel bigger
Triggered when seen fire beneath his feet
Thinking seas
The ship with Lincoln and King Luther sinking, bleak
Tired and unwilling to admire this old cynical liar
Truth hurts so he won’t try it
Clever illusions help with denial
Severed connections avoiding trials
Endeavor rejected…

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Welcome Illusions

No caged child if no bells are rung
No bloody skirts without sirens
Listening to learn faith
To feel safe
There’s no violence
The blue bird has spoken
Indulge to forget
Let the lines blur
It’s how to lie to shadows
Angry at the food stains
With nostalgia for nice words
of “wisdom” and “knowledge”
Because no feelings would get hurt
Looking away from exploding skies
At words, “one upon a time”
The new stories are scary
Time to worry
Judging the narration
When the subtext is identical
Creepy vocabulary
Forced from the haven of familiarity
Can’t sleep thinking the wolves are coming
Picture boxes, heroine
Goodish vibes
Willing to please if allowed to smile
Gladly show up for dinner
Clean the plate
Say the food was great
As if the hook wasn’t the point
When tears scream “fact”
The solidity of steel is questioned

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Aged Identity

In an Identity based atmosphere we see a struggle between the new and old
We feel the need to expose who we are to everyone
Voices unheard, just to discover our identity was never what we thought it was
This philosophical thought explains the idea.

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The end of our ignorance dissolves with age
We learn from mistakes
Memories are always the bad ones because they hold the lessons
There is never an ultimately perfect version of ourselves to get to
We are always just better than we were, be it in one direction or another
Sharing what we’ve learned might help someone else understand what they must do
But it is the job of no one to fix all the broken in the world
Only the broken can fix themselves through the lessons in their mistakes
We have to accept mistakes as our fault for any of this to be possible in the first place
We have to be willing to change things we believe make up our identity to fix ourselves
We grow from young to obsess over our identity
We grow to old to pick the things which don’t belong there anyway

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Hell

Living in this infamous informal institute,

Feeling insulted, having to induce identity onto the inflexible.

Impatiently await the impending impediment.

Immerging from an impaled death is the impact of imperceptible imperfection.

Watch as they indulge interminably.

They leave intervals resulting from incomprehensible self-interest,

Letting interiors die of intoxication.

They introduce their lives to death,

Inviting others to share their indistinct pain and invincible misery.

This image imagined is an insignificant, infinitesimal imitation of the impoverish life innocent eyes have seen.

All of this is improper.

I act on impulse to call this an inarticulate hell.

This is life.

 

By Jack Thomas

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