Ugly and disappointing colors are what they're revealing
It's a challenge not to fall victim to the deceptive deceiving
This world in which all are tirelessly scheming

Corrupt messages intended to disillusion our modes of sensory
The laws of this dishonesty are rarely discriminant
The unlimited reach of the effects are constantly consistent
Putting current views and outlooks in legitimate jeopardy

Originality is one thing they've made a hobby of stealing
Dark, ***** secrets require intelligent attempts at concealing
This society in which all are tirelessly scheming

Naivity is an automatic assumption of all that is innocent
You can witness their successes expending minimal energy
The fraud is hazardous; failure is certainly imminent
One would desire that outcome sooner than later, as it leaves recipients feeling elderly
With any form of luck, more will come to share this sentiment

Endless efforts put toward developing façades generally appealing
Aiming to have candor and valor on the knees, kneeling
This reality in which all are tirelessly scheming

Sturdy quilts to shield clarity are woven most expertly
Time being tested passed slowly- increment by minute increment
Blueprints to fool the majority will be, expectedly, intricate
What was the original reality has been altered into a distant, doubted memory

Any and all accomplished legitimitacy sends them all reeling
There's always a "crisis" with which we should be dealing
*Our universe in which all are tirelessly scheming

my dilemma

When I see you, I want to be your everything
When I hear you, I want to fill your life with joy
When I feel you, I want to mend every broken part

Yet...

To give what you need is to surrender what I've clung to
To be who you deserve is to cease being who I am

What am I to do?

Pursue you, surrendering me?
Avoid you, preserving me?
Abandon all I believe to have all I want?
Cling to my hope and let you drift away?

my dilemma

a  constitution
inquiring for
debate that
resides there
a book
in prophesy
those coming
years with
barter awhile
that journals
any turn
around that
apocalypse has
with balderdash
then spoken
tracts in
between crosshairs

I live my life staring at the clock.
I always think that I don’t have much
time to be the person whom I want to be.

I’ve become a man of time and anxiety.
I can’t relax when I know that each second
is the youngest that I’ll ever be as it fades into nothing.

A thousand reasons to remain in bed
And avoid the coming day
A thousand reasons to bury my head
And keep out of harms way
A thousand voices shout aloud
All to sway my thinking
A thousand wisdoms calling out
Just as I am sinking
A thousand ideologies
Beliefs enforced through system
A thousand refugees to roam
From those who would forsake them
A thousand dreams or nightmares seen
To counter or to chase
A thousand strains of new disease
To cull the human race
A thousand prophets chanting out
Their lore’s sent from above
A thousand children left to die
Outside the realms of love
A thousand homes of worship and prayer
To celebrate our saviours
A thousand faded works of art
To document our failures
A thousand ****** up truths be told
Not met with protestation
A thousand TV gods are borne
And bathed in admiration
A thousand tears these eyes have cried
To wash away the stinging
A thousand choral soft refrains
Peace be found through singing
A thousand floods and droughts to come
Before the world stops turning
A thousand thunderbolts crash down
To keep the whole world burning
A thousand screams my ears have heard
Of tormented siren’s wail
A thousand raging seas to crash
Before it’s safe to sail
A thousand cities sprawling out
Of cold and grey construction
A thousand cities blown apart
Collateral mass destruction
A thousand throngs of humankind
Scattered during war
A thousand hardships to endure
Until they roam no more
A thousand lies to be told
By those in high positions
Thousands living food bank lives
In poverty conditions
A thousand pounds for the 98
To feed their family nest
A million dollars meted out
Just to feed the rest

Copyright Marc Hawkins 2017

as she's
taken a
death toll
in Trenton
and 'bout
a banshee
that cries
how Lycia's
federation unique
as Greek
cities crumbled
so far
that a
trip to
Gibraltar once
frugal now
ideologcal fashion

"never let it die"
never let what die, exactly?
the passion?
i love arranging words
but even i have to admit
that eventually the day will come
when i can't find a new way for the words to sit
and i can't know if that day will come
before the day my curséd hands-
the ones that feel like pianist's when floating across a keyboard
while the owner watches words dance on the page
-become gnarled with age
perpetually pained and praying for the end
my life's greatest joy in the beginning
once my best friend
soon becomes my wayward true love
gone on the wings of a dove
leaving me with nothing to do
but stare hard with tired eyes at a bingo card

or is it the wonder?
wonder is life's greatest blunder
because as long as knowledge knows what's best
wonder will wind up dying like the rest
surely it is no contest
when a child's tooth transfigures into a 50 cent piece
just like magic
except for the part where little timmy
one eye peeled open
sees dad sneaking away in the night
trying so hard not to make a sound
or the year sally slaved over cookies for santa
taking care to leave a carrot for rudolph
only to realize that for some strange reason
santa's signature bore striking resemblance
to mom's when the pen in her hand does a dance

is it the motivation?
motivation is sometimes hard
when people are telling me that this isn't my calling card
all their tight-lipped smiles of pity
whenever i'm asked, "what else do you want to do?"
to be perfectly honest, it feels kind of ******
it's a knife in my heart, a stab in my back
in my darkest hour i feel my resolve crack
and there goes the backbone we all know i lack

or maybe it means me
or bigger than me, the fragility of life
the very thing that causes so many strife
but i know it is merely a pipedream
eventually my poor eyes will lose their gleam
you might say,
"hey now holly
it's not so bad
you could live on through your words
come on, they're more than just a fad
wouldn't that be rad?
now, there's no need to be sad!"
i mean, sure, but it isn't me who's got longevity
it's those words i wrote just to get some levity
what's so special about me
compared to all those other dead white dudes?
tell me one thing about shakespeare the man
and then tell me about your favorite play he penned
then we'll measure which conversation's longer
and that's the answer
regarding whether me or my words are stronger

"never let it die"
now that one's a crapshoot
but trust me, i'll be ****** if i don't go down trying
"ms. mcfarlane, you're dying-"
-**** straight, kid, we're all dying
but listen here, sonny
i'll be a monkey's uncle if you think
i'm going before you do, just another fink
nah, i'm going down screaming and fighting
i don't really care if they drag me down or up
just pour a little more champagne in my cup
this whole life thing? it's mostly dumb luck

"never let it die"-
now that's impossible, but
water it, nurture it, let it grow
not having the ambition, though
that's your real foe
its temporary nature is the artistry
that fosters the artist in me
so sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride
because everything in life happens in due time