This following poem addresses my peers: Clearly this year was reminiscent of past, In fact that nothing of value was cheered. Clearly this problem of chance is too vast, To ascertain we need a compass. None is available, so we fail by chance, Not lack of ingenuity to justify trespass, Nor the hypocrisy interacting with fans, No, some invisible god blocks our path; Impossible to pass, without empathy, Untold giants rest among the math, Turtles are shells, medicine is homeopathy. In regards to that, please take care. Next years forecast gives me quite a scare.
Should I advance beyond, With no progress made, Let my name not be forgotten, Scorch my name in the grass, Make sand of the raised glass, Where class be feigned.
Among data statisticians some are apt. Strikepads merely look for matches. Pyromancers fire from hands, Magic tricks demand ignorance, Turns education into pittance. Hydromancy of the dire lands, Outright drought of pious demands. Stale games played, Crows become Kae, Men become gods when displayed in 4k.
A collection of words, Is nothing but prose, Until elementary lords, Teach elementary oppose, To sophist tradition, Among kitchen women, teaching poor renditions, of the stereotypical even. A collection of bones, Is nothing but, Sophists label rock, and stones, Confusion between causes rebut, Both deny their implied root, Eventually becoming societies bigfoot.
Depressed, never to make lasting impression. A denizen of hope to never make the finish. Yet gladly they have made no procession, A gentleman leaves, not extincting the fish; Yet, gladly the simple fish onward, Unrealized is their colony of cowards, No love and no goal worked toward, Fools with lofty goals pulled Earthwards, Nobody cheers as the people awe. Nobody cares as the people stand jaw slack. Nobody leers in care as they're not the law, Nobody fares well, so they want old law back. However the rulebook of old is lost. Common sense now too far past is post.
Upon the throne, no one will falter, No deeper prose, nor dragon exalted. Asia proceeds onward in laughter, For the west has loans now defaulted. Conceding mass fortune to misspent wealth, Preferring concert above eating well, Discoursing doctors say priority on health, Referring to a disease that fell, Not preventative well being. Nor representative of the well read, For mass appeal is just seeing. The senses infinite within a small thread, Only known to those rolling with laughter, Callused so thick they survive the rapture.
Apocalypse they prepped for never came, For mother never even prepared for birth, All, Among the leaves rot the same, Yet none bother to even feed the earth. For all that shoots becomes hostile, Especially in the face of a newcomer; Lowe the god that shoots the tile, Bottle similar to that of his newborn. Quoth the bottle: Leave my spirit, No man burdened by free will, Suppose the throttle is under skirt, No man burnt will be free to chill. Suppose we see our freedom filled, Then who benchmarks freedom stilled?
No glance, only mention of Descartes, Reference is lost in the moment, Youth culture stole musical art, Changed preference to non-impotent. Where is left for the lost artist? No venue for the middle aged artisans, So it seems in bed, as the allegorist, All hurt for the chorus of musicians, However bedrooms are the preferred court. Aptly put nobody pays cash anymore, And some end up overpaid in sport, Wailing are the preferred poor, However, nobody screams out of valor, So everybody must scream out in squalor.
Tragically the adolescence columbine, Society takes blame for outlier. Yet take no blame for the combine, Priority is lost to class tier. Yet they see no problem, all is well. As long as one future desire's feces, Vast open fields with enemies to fell, Yet they see no problem in our species, Masking an issue too virtuous to kill. The children need guidance, More knowledge and less grades. For man is always capable of buoyance, Only starting of poor knowledge in trades. Perhaps they missed the lessons available, Perhaps the guidelines made them incapable.
Less tragedy found, less existence. Scathing review of society liberated, Less imagination and less acceptance. Perhaps in a basement wired fascinated;
Empty Silence tops a rattle of chain, A whores horse then tries to evade. To no avail, assailants fear no pain. Those that must then ply their trade. Grasping flail, to no avail legitimate, For none is literate in God. Often assumption made inconsiderate, For law cares not if grass is sod. That said, what lies here is often not. Opinion tends to be but a clod tempest, Consensus leaning toward an insane plot, Mass opine religion of uneducated priest. Green reds now shake with blue collars. Only masons of insured welfare collard'.
Classlessly the entire generation asks, Perchance who is to breathe this air? Perhaps they know not of gasses, How easy they are to acquire, wherever. Why not just call someone a thief? Why not a liar, or simple cheat? For selling someone a leaf, Calling gold that found among peat. Couldn't ignorance be but a plea? With no common ground to stand, Everything you see marketing fleas, Ticks suddenly drop in market demand. Concept, is a concept if you understand conception. The epitome of tomorrow claim they never got the lesson.
A bridge too far is a bridge too far. Simply put it goes beyond. Unnecessarily a player struggles, To play an off-key yawn, Play chords, save the trouble. Nobody listens anyway inside of a bar. Bridges that lead to beyond, Then abruptly end in the sea. Why turn from sea so calm? You could jump to freedom.
Crime rate bears no relevance, As evidence now confesses, Relatively they decide evidence. An industry denies its heritage, Evidently they know confused: Rage declines its benefits, Never does it consider time, Crime is of no relevance, As victims now stand blameless.
So before my light extinguished, I'll least try my hardest, Exploring every possible cavern, In hopes of holding my interest.
No wave easily embraces a shore, Yet broken it finds solace soars. Beyond is sea, pale godless, No effect easily saves scores. Yet a violin plays of the whore, Upon the pier, praying for goddesses. A boat launches without birth mother, Father never sees need for guidances, Tragedy is compassions' like brother, Yet time must pass or we tarnish each other. My tragedy at sea was like no other: I believed in no Poseidon of fate. So I found no place safe to wallow, Waves endlessly chased my starboard, Port too was nothing but ocean onward, So I trumpet ironic prayers for rain, Anything to wash away my shameful act.