the bend

with every thing i’ve done so far, and every thing i’ll do,
i wonder what it amounts to when i’m finally through.
a life of books and disapproving looks,
a state and country run by disillusioned crooks,
the cooks who put steaks on your plate,
the fear of rejection or an awful first date.
a job, a lesson, a paycheck each week for the aggravation,
liaisons and ligaments worn out or torn,
a lack of respect for the generations past and ones yet unborn,
aggression, suppression, submission to the hand that giveth
great things unto you, for it also taketh away.
always working, but never hard enough;
there’s no such thing as play.
i have an obsession with tomorrow
and things that happened yesterday.
the present, as always, is fading pretty,
potential never realized until the next day,
and there i’ll be in the morning, mourning,
mulling over the tasks i failed to accomplished
while i, too, was preoccupied
with the things inside my head,
caught up in the dread
of the days and weeks and months and years
and years and years to come,
and what will come of all the mistakes
i’ll make by the time today is done.
but time fades into the fog of memories,
and i’m mesmerized by the past acts of ancient civilizations
as they conquer and divide and branch out in migration,
traveling toward an equalization between all nations,
united, one world, one people under god, indivisible,
however quizzical it may seem to see individuals
feeling invisible, miserable,
internal battles being fought on foot,
forsaking the hallowed lands of these native grounds,
shrieks and shouts of pain without sound,
torn between right and wrong,
same old story, same old song
and dance and drugs to drown out the
multitudes of splitting migraines,
parting minds like the red sea.
i’m listening.
we know where it started, but where will it end?
when will it break? how far can we bend?

On Tradition

Aus Gott wird man gebor'n, in Christo stirbet man. //////////////// Und in dem heil'gen Geist fängt man zu leben an.

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