You never think it is going to happen to you
Until you hear of a letter from the sheriff’s department,
And the quiet guy in your econ class no longer shows up to school.
You never think it would happen to them
Until you’re laughing over coffee
And someone mentions the events of last friday
And how the police were called in
You never think it would happen to her
Until she’s making jokes about it
But could have been gone forever
May the circumstances had changed
And you laugh along,
But the moment the talking stops,
The smiles fade,
You’ll come to the halting realization
You never think
Sometimes I feel awkward
I'm standing in a group of people
and they are staring
Because, at first, I was speaking
but now I'm silent
and they are uncomfortable
so am I
Sometimes I feel dumb
I'm searching for words
but I find none
I have no words when you're
standing in front of me
yet I choose to write poetry
Ironic isn't it?
Sometimes I feel trapped
Trapped in social disorder
that limits my ability
to communicate with others
Alone when I don't want to be
When I don't have to be
Sometimes I feel hope
because the more I write
the better I get with words
and the easier it gets
Paused, on the keyboard,
the ticks dissipating,
words, turning to clouds,
clouds of nothingness,
it's all a mess,
confessing my mistake,
reverting paragraphs of apologies,
lost, in life deserted,
the touch which my heart instantly recognized,
was lost again,
the butterflies had already died (in my stomach),
I tried again, and again, and again,
thinking the cursor would reappear,
all did appear,
was my life line ticking low,
I regret, those words,
I swear to not let my heart, flush them recklessly,
For I don't wish to lose things again,
It is the 23rd century,
The other rebels are showcased in the penitentiary
In the city’s center street
To gratify the remnants of the sensory.
They’re beheld through double-paned hybrid walls of palladium, aluminum oxide and diamond;
In each cell their own reflection’s seen
There is no blue sky, no scent of trees;
The cells’ sounds rebound and resound
To promote censoring.
It all began in the 21st century;
Now, ancient relics are kept in a technological cemetery,
Guarded by a sophisticated sentry.
Unbound knowledge damaged our brains,
Progress became our shackles and chains.
We—humanity—became dependent like a candle and flame
And gradually, drastically, society managed to change.
All who resisted were banished in shame,
Then our history was lost; I’m lucky to even know my family name.
I am the last rebel.
I know of tambourines, timbre and treble.
I know of beauty that once made men tremble.
I know of the past gods;
Before we made the last devil.
Now we are the drones.
We mass-produced their bodies, now we are the clones.
Now they think, speak and feel for us—we are just bones.
We built our father’s house upon these rocks:
We are the stones.
If any should read this before the ripples of time dwindle,
I’ll be plain: we surrendered human expression to digital signals and symbols.
We once made music from thimbles and cymbals,
Praised the Lord on the timbrels,
Shouted aloud atop the shingles.
It was all so profound, because it was so simple.
Eventually what the experts, geniuses and pros found
Was a way to hose down
Now, propriety is: No psaltry, poetry or piety.
The cemetery holds the devices which ushered the end of society.
But I have seen them;
I devised a scheme to sneak in silently
And study the history privately.
I was stunned. Stricken, as with fear,
And for the first time in years
My eyes leaked with tears.
If I could talk to them,
If I could ask a question,
If I could somehow call,
I’d ask why—just why did you allow it all?!
How could you not foresee the downfall?!
Why did not some societal siren sound off?
Speaking of sirens...
They’ve found my lair...
See, this is why I’ve found fault!
Now I am a rebel—a renegade—forced to live like a groundhog
Simply because I seek to enlighten and warn all,
Like one who foresaw
The siege of Warsaw.
If this is ever found, preserve my last words:
LONG LIVE THE REVOLUTION
The Last Outlaw
Reed Jobs X
Everyone is scared of monsters,
but there is a monster in each and every one of us
So are we afraid of our-self?
We hide our true selves
with fake smiles
and false personalities
And when someone gets close
too close to the light inside
and your monster takes over
Because you’re scared of letting someone in
because if you let someone in,
they have the ability to hurt you
they have the ability to kill the monster
And as much as you hate that monster
you don’t want it dead
because it protects you
and without it, you’re vulnerable
And if you’re vulnerable
but the only way to get stronger
is to kill the monster
It’s a constant back and forth
And until you decide
until you allow someone
to see your light
the monster will stay
hidden deep beneath your chest
constricting each breath
Ahhhh, God damn! Just can't leave me be
I decided to leave, you decided not peacefully
Can't you see? I do not want you in my life
The very fact you're trying is inspiration to write
And I'm sick of sticking fists up for another one-sided fight
I'm sick of biting my tongue to prevent my darker side
The amount of times I've wanted to shred you in more than just rhymes
Is roughly the amount of times I've wanted to push you from the skies!
Seriously, if you haven't before, now listen to me
Try as you might, shit that you start, providing pleas
It's typical feminine drama and I'm sick of this crap
My mind is in overdrive trying not to laugh
It's pathetic, you're pathetic, it's all done
Fuck me once, you fucked me twice it's done
Now I'm sorry, gotta go, gotta run
Call me what you want, you are what you eat, its fun
Drinking coffee at a modern day
A Mcpoet of no repute
I write from lack of action
In a social framework i used to
Blame and criticize in all
Honesty i think differently now
About the interdependent co-arisen
Universe appearing as this
Coiled fathom long body mind
That i hold so dear i lie
To myself to obtain the comforts
Powers and other
Habitual illusions of thought
Which are but minuscule vibrations
In the emptiness of the all in all
That science can not fully comprehend
And guesses upon the question of
What was the shape and form existent
Prior to the theoretical