Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2012
Chains. Chains. Chains.
Pursuit of truth,
Labyrinth of fear.
The cautious man runs from his dreams.
He paints his face with black and white.
He sees no clouds and always has an umbrella.

The anarchist.
The preacher.
The student.
The teacher.

All together on a grassy field.
Where we fight for production of goods that no one can afford.
Where we dance like junkies in a trance.
All together yet so apart.
Burns and scars were their only friends.
We all borrow but no one lends.

Destiny!! Oh SWEET DESTINTY!
Was I blind?
What do I see?
Fear, Death, Merchandising, Proclamation, Exploitation, Education, Deliberation, ***, Love, Hate, DRUGS, DRUGS, and more Drugs…..
   For the platform never moves and the train never arrives.
******* to live, born to die.

So we’re here.
All the work got us here.
All the bloodshed and loss to preserve something.
Something… and we are here.
Wars for the rich fought by the poor.
When they own the stores.
When they own schools.
When they own our churches.
When they own the lower class.

We accept this.
To operate and assume.
To work hard enough,
To be a silver spoon.
So sell out.
Give it up.
You don’t deserve it.
We ******* hate you.
You won’t ever fit in.

So become a suit.
Earn your money.
Buy a house.
REFIANCE!!!
Dance, the ******* dance.
It’s what we do and we are here.
Michael Mandarino
Written by
Michael Mandarino
669
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems