Great Grandma said it.
Grandma said it.
Dad Said it.
Mom said it.
Teachers said it.
Bosses said it.
Husband said it.
Children said it.
I said, Hell, no!
There comes a time that we realized that somethings are just traditional patterns and other times it is used for control. When it is used for control I have a response!
Should I listen to this devil that lives within?
Should I let my anger out? Or should I hold it in?
All these thoughts and feelings are making my head ring.
I’d love an easy ride, to feel free enough to sing.
But instead I am stuck with this devil inside me, battling.
It’s a war of attrition, one that no matter what nobody can win.
It’s a terrible position that we all find ourselves in.
You run the race wrong when you enter to win.
It’s time to change tactics, you can’t possibly sustain and survive the sprint.
Life is not a sprint, it is a marathon of the ages
the title of king
was hotly contested
by a trio of men who
wanted to be invested
in pursuing the ultimate goal
only one employed a vying
wicked tactics were ever
his underhanded style of play
which saw the other two
bulldozed well out of the way
they'd not gain the
throne's highest apex
that position reserved
for his sole Rex
he now wears the crown
of questionable ascent
a king who obtained it
through an unsporting bent
her blood stained canines have
ripped out your heart,
her malevolent words have
eaten through your soul,
every word a figment
of sinister plan,
every day, every night
they are like a knife
pressed against your throat,
she was your lady
and you were her man,
her mouth now spills
poorly worded apologies,
her charms were tricks and
tactics to a game
she loves to play,
there were clear signs
which you chose to overlook,
like when she said she did not
like reading Hemingway,
or when she bought you a book
to divert your attention
from seeing her real look.
My tactic is to look at you,
learn how you are.
Love you like you are
My tactic is to talk to you
And listen to you.
Build with words
An indestructible bridge
My tactic is
To stay in your memory.
I do not know how,
I do not know on what pretext,
but to stay inside you
My tactic is to be sincere
And know that you are sincere,
And that we do not sell simulacra
So that between the two
There exists no curtains or chasms
My strategy is,
Deeper and simpler
My strategy is
That one day,
I do not know how,
I do not know under what pretext,
At last, *you need me.
The man who tries to prove a point
Is unsure of how sharp it is.
A man who wars with blunt arms,
Is confident in his own strength.
The man who bears armor brave,
Falls heavy into his own grave.
The man who comes naked
Is sure he will return unscathed.
But, not every warrior is the same;
And no war can be fought
In the shadow of divine aim.
who do you blame?
Peoples’ lives are dying in consistency;
Greed in their pedestal has corrupted this world’s societies.
A fruitful opportunity, a gold rush was encountered!
Underlying the main ambition of many unfortunate ambitious desires.
Persistently seeking an object of materiality,
Children have become contracted to labor endlessly till mortality.
The corporate pose has overshadowed humanity,
Predetermining existence through living in a vision of obscurity.
Freedom has evolved in many attaining their dreams,
Yet, failing to realize their limits in overstepping boundaries.
Morality has been compromised to new opportunities.
Ultimately, corrupting one’s essence in living spiritually.
We have eluded to perceive the subtle communication they have established you see.
Projecting honesty while planting a seed, they enrich themselves invulnerably.
Enabled through the loophole of ignorance attracted by social mediocrity,
Revealing a battle between each other secretly disguised as insecurity.
Asking how do I seek success, freedom, and happiness endlessly.
Indubitably, the answer relies inside, secreting awareness internally.
Discovering that the war begins within may end the violence indeed.
Extinguishing eternal destruction of the world through peace and harmony.
By: Michael M. De La Fuente
— The End —