(no subject)
Here is a poem I wrote about a year back and randomly came across lying amidst my notes.
Liberation?
At the top of a park
facing the strip
a phallus points stark
aiming for it.
The creatures that dance
on that road through the night
are taking a chance
to move in its sight.
Perhaps it's a guide
a bare proclamation
of what lies inside
that places elation.
Sturdy and firm
well kept undercover
the thought makes you squirm
(yet that's what we're here for?)
Or is it a threat
to all those about
saying "in you all get
and never come out."
To bars of madonna
and kylie Minogue
we act like it's summer
and dress all in vogue.
Yet the freedom displayed there
can barely conceal
that hidden censor
that comes with the deal.
When once again morning
does shine in your face
the turret's a warning
to get back in place.
The street marks division
as we drink and shout
not seeing the prison
we cannot get out.
This erection's a warning
of danger to come
a violence that's dawning
that we can't dance from.
The only freedom that we can ever achieve is the freedom that we make for ourselves. We are the righteous. We are all soldiers in a war not of our making, and we are winning.
The only real sin is being untrue to ourselves. Let the rest of the world catch up (or leave it behind.)
How we live is the only real power we have, and the only one that matters.
And the world will keep turning if we're here to watch it or not.
It's important to believe in something, afterall.
Liberation?
At the top of a park
facing the strip
a phallus points stark
aiming for it.
The creatures that dance
on that road through the night
are taking a chance
to move in its sight.
Perhaps it's a guide
a bare proclamation
of what lies inside
that places elation.
Sturdy and firm
well kept undercover
the thought makes you squirm
(yet that's what we're here for?)
Or is it a threat
to all those about
saying "in you all get
and never come out."
To bars of madonna
and kylie Minogue
we act like it's summer
and dress all in vogue.
Yet the freedom displayed there
can barely conceal
that hidden censor
that comes with the deal.
When once again morning
does shine in your face
the turret's a warning
to get back in place.
The street marks division
as we drink and shout
not seeing the prison
we cannot get out.
This erection's a warning
of danger to come
a violence that's dawning
that we can't dance from.
The only freedom that we can ever achieve is the freedom that we make for ourselves. We are the righteous. We are all soldiers in a war not of our making, and we are winning.
The only real sin is being untrue to ourselves. Let the rest of the world catch up (or leave it behind.)
How we live is the only real power we have, and the only one that matters.
And the world will keep turning if we're here to watch it or not.
It's important to believe in something, afterall.