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mitakiharashiPoems
Twice the fool is the runaway Who hides his trail, as he hides his ache All bottle and pills, temporary sleep Insomniac daze and cheap dinner meals Static lies on a stationary screen Radio chatter can’t feed the famine in me The world is aflame With no one awake Sunrise slumber I fall unconscious to the restless on midnight pavement Breaking bones or breaking bottles Selling skin or dealing dust to lost souls Hearts tucked and folded from the cold Future oblique I dare you, predict my dreams Late riser / never bloomer Packs a bag, a change of clothes To deadbeat joints, and dead end posts Been as many years gone as daily cigarettes smoked Bloodshot symmetry eyes I see in every passerby Like the whole city gone up and left their troubles behind, You and I We’re cerebral projections Locked into motor whirs, recursive disintegration Status acknowledged, clean cut Black and white since day one Mould breaker, you’re told you’re out of line Gutter graves or veins, stay your place or fall behind The only constant is the throne You sit upon or come to view as your body’s own The red light stare, blue flicker flares Blare on your skin, like prisms, colour wear Better to fade to grey than know yourself For what you truly are, just a shade of catch and tell Dire straits No deviation Full advance Or desolation Empty eyes Golden restraints I don’t want wealth I just want change
0
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 8:51 PM UTC
late riser / never bloomer
Twice the fool is the runaway Who hides his trail, as he hides his ache All bottle and pills, temporary sleep Insomniac daze and cheap dinner meals Static lies on a stationary screen Radio chatter can’t feed the famine in me The world is aflame With no one awake Sunrise slumber I fall unconscious to the restless on midnight pavement Breaking bones or breaking bottles Selling skin or dealing dust to lost souls Hearts tucked and folded from the cold Future oblique I dare you, predict my dreams Late riser / never bloomer Packs a bag, a change of clothes To deadbeat joints, and dead end posts Been as many years gone as daily cigarettes smoked Bloodshot symmetry eyes I see in every passerby Like the whole city gone up and left their troubles behind, You and I We’re cerebral projections Locked into motor whirs, recursive disintegration Status acknowledged, clean cut Black and white since day one Mould breaker, you’re told you’re out of line Gutter graves or veins, stay your place or fall behind The only constant is the throne You sit upon or come to view as your body’s own The red light stare, blue flicker flares Blare on your skin, like prisms, colour wear Better to fade to grey than know yourself For what you truly are, just a shade of catch and tell Dire straits No deviation Full advance Or desolation Empty eyes Golden restraints I don’t want wealth I just want change
10:24pm, September 24th 2013 - 12:37 pm, September 26th 2013 I'll probably edit this for longer; don't delve into the protagonist enough, and the ending comes too sudden. This is about how most people hide away from class gaps. They don't confront them, they don't acknowledge them. It's about the helplessness of people born into the lower class, how they're labelled by location, speech, dress and race. Prejudice and stereotyping. How, despite all the change that happens in the world, there still seems to be space for cruelty, ignorance, political BS, controversial lies over truth. Inspired by: http://birdsrobe.bandcamp.com/track/the-undertow
#change#night#environment#class#racism#inequality#prejudice#jobless
mitakiharashi
Written by
mitakiharashi
New Zealander
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 8:51 PM UTC
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