Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
we are made                                                        of nothing
nothing brought                                           to light
   the dark that fell                    upon the stars  
the darkness               brought to life
in an infinite                   regress
the mind cannot       unwrap
we are made of emptiness
we are                      gods




  of the gaps
My Mind the prison.
My Heart and Soul prisoner.

The chains,
Anxiety and Depression.

My Body the canvas,
Mindful of my Oppression.
Living like a shadow
Being the odd one out
Remarkable yet unremembered
Floating in my daydreams
Fighting off reality
Forgetting my priorities
Getting carried away
By life's necessities
And blending into the crowd
At the oddest moments
When sticking out is beneficial
Segments.
Slices.
Slices
of time.
Worlds
existed.
Lives
lived.
Stories
told.
Unique.
Differen­t
actors.
Different
stories.
All
played out.
Real.
All real.
As real
as now.
To them,
as real
as now
to us.
Segment
after
segment.
Actors
come,
actors
go.
Only the
stories
remain.
Told
again and
again.
Millennium
ago.
Millennium
from now.
Actors
act.
Stories
played
out.
Lovers
loved.
Babies
cried.
­Sun
rose
and set.
All real
then fade.
Fade
away.
All important.
Then not.
Just
fade away.
Nextworld.
What’s to
come.
Evolution
fast tracked.
Virtual.
All
virtual.
Real world
sharing.
Real world
fading.
Fading
away.
Virtual
business.
Virtual
enjoyment.
I­dealized.
Consumer
choice
idealism.
Avatar
abstract.
Interactions­
everywhere.
Global
connections.
Unlike
any past
ever been,
ever seen.
New world.
Nextworld.
Unknowable.
Future
unknowable.
More so.
Tsunamis
of difference
over the
horizon.
Batten
down!
Curst be the wretch, and sure he's curst
That taught the Trade of Rhyming first
'Tis a ****' d Trade, and who pursues it,
I'll pass my word at last he rue's it
The above is an extract from a late seventeenth-century satirical ballad I stumbled across in the course of my research. It made me smile; I hope it does you! The title is the number of the ballad in the English Broadside Ballad Archive, an online database of seventeenth-century ballads, should you wish to read the entire piece yourself.
Next page