"devolved" poems
Shopping outfashioned hunting and gathering,
Processed beats fresh,
Groceries replaced fruit trees,
Malls superceded forests,
Churches outnumbered temples,
Countries dissolved to territories,
Places devolved to areas,
Paths broke down into highways,
Commodity converted to currency,
Laborers submit to machinery,
Masters engage in humbug,
Apprentices reduced to students,
Knowledge downgraded to education,
And education is deducted to a show of grades,
While schools are the stages,
And the corporate world is the bigger runway,
With work slumped to employment,
Wisdom demoted to profession,
Where in jobs are the only future,
Careers are the only success,
Clicking and pressing buttons are skills,
Computers are correspondent to brains,
Information refers to news reports,
Intelligence means up-to-dateness,
Browsing is preferable to reading,
Studying is in demand more than learning,
Viewing things flashed on screens yields awareness,
Transportation is to traveling,
As buying is to the three basic needs,
And needs embody worldly possessions,
Worldly possessions define happiness,
Happiness is due to selfishness,
Selfishness is traced to the lack of love,
The lack of love draws from the lack of faith,
Because faith stands for religion,
And religion stands for membership,
Where politicians are the gods,
Celebrities are the preachers,
And the preachers are the enemies,
While networking is equal to friendship,
And connection equates to communication,
Experiences require photos,
Memories necessitate uploading,
Souvenirs can be downloaded,
Smartphones are substitute to pets,
Gadgets are toys,
Holding controllers is playing,
Watching TV is exploring the great outdoors,
Internet is recreation,
And technology is a way of life;
While humans are scientists,
Nature is a guinea pig,
And the earth is a laboratory,
Where prices are misidentified for worth,
Processes are miscalculated as progress,
Impoverishment is confused with improvement,
And getting more is mistaken as getting better;
And then we wonder why
Homes have become houses,
Family members have become boarders,
Nations are separate species
Composed of tired and hungry citizens,
Children are monsters
Who are biochemically rascals,
Teenagers are zombies
Whose adventures lead to delinquency,
Adults are robots
Who just clang when touched,
And life is not so simple
As how it is said to be.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 5:40 AM UTC
I started on the rooftop
The empty sky above was all I had
And all I needed
It was pure
Like a blank page
Waiting for a story to be written
But at the first sight of clouds
I fled to the top floor
There were fun and simple things on the top floor
Like Pokémon games
I got red, white, and blue
The monsters seemed so banal and repetitive
But nobody else would acknowledge it
Sending me into a dragon's rage
I tried using flamethrower on Charmander
Ending in futility as I ran out of burn heals
I looked out the window in frustration
Rain was falling outside
Inside
Patriotism was buffeted by the hail
So I devolved into a lower level
Going further down this building
For ***** and giggles
I found more ****
Less giggles
On a floor with a TV displaying the news
I was eager to learn about the world
Only to learn everybody hates each other
And nobody talks
Or cares
And the smartest person in the room
Is the one I agree with the most
Unable to view the tokens in my mind
As anything less than treasure
And those who try to persuade me otherwise
Are thieves
My spite steals tranquility
Like the persistent storm outside
My solution is shelter in lower levels
My experimentation on communication
With the general population
Had rained on my playful parade
But I felt very comfortable on a floor with friends
Until they saw through my charade
Discovering my emotions in disarray
As the people who made me love this building
Made me curse it's walls the more I loved them
I searched for the peaceful embrace of solitude
Once the storm outside transformed into a typhoon
I found that solitude
In a tiny bare room
With a syringe and spoon
I was unaware
That room was an elevator
That lowered me down the concrete void
As the hurricane outside rattled me violently inside my box
Trapped and lacking all agency
I resigned myself to wherever the elevator chose to take me
After the elevator finished pulling me into the basement
The tsunami seemed to cease
But I was buried under debris
I had to burrow out of my tomb
The dig was tedious and *****
My perseverance was heroic
But triumph was thwarted
When I reached the surface
To discover only wreckage remained
And when I looked up
I saw the building I inhabited
It's damaged facade
Made it clear
I would never visit those floors I missed on the elevator
Above my building
Hangs an empty sky
It's purity is a lie
The page was never blank
Just constantly written on and erased
To lure innocent readers into a tome
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 11:48 PM UTC
Rain is refreshing in a strange, backward way. It shocks you out of a deep, prolific lapse of participation in reality and reminds you that you’re still here. You’re still corporeal, tangible, you can feel and you can decide. But rain is still rain. It can be cold and unpleasant to be faced with, or it can be warm and welcoming. Beconing you forth to splash and smile in the reality you forgot still applied to you.
I left behind the idea of full, around the clock consciousness during my last frigid thunderstorm. I realized, during a session already dedicated to realizations, how exhausting it was trying to live my reality to its current extent. How frustrating and soul-crushing it is to have the ambition you truly believed in and planned to embark upon, forgone by the limits of a situation you have no control over. I kept a small jar of ideas and plans in the very back corner of my closet. They were safe, they couldn’t be taken out back and shot nor could they be taunted and destroyed from the inside out. When I was cornered in my intruded closet, when I was taken by the collar and shaken for my truth, they were found. Both above-mentioned circumstances played out shortly but in the opposite order. That’s when it began to rain.
I decided on an alternative: selective awareness. I keep myself alive only feeling and participating when the rain is tepid and pleasant. When I feel the temperature beginning to drop, I fall back asleep, floating through lull and lash, until the sun comes to change the course of my simulation. For days, all I will see is fog. I’m lost and isolated, but that lack of direction comes with an onset of contentedness. There is no one who can see me wandering through a deluded course I have set for myself. I don’t know where I’m walking, I don’t know what’s in front of me, so the warm rain will give me a pleasant surprise as it melts away the fog and gives me hope for sustainable warmth.
The cloudiness that lingers in my head, even when I’m experiencing kindness and sensitivity, reminds me that my effort to make my reality more livable is as viable as staying completely shrouded in fog until I wander off the edge of a cliff. Eventually, as I age out of my simulation, I’ll have skin thick enough to withstand the hailstorm I’ll be forced to reckon with. Resilience is necessary, but hope exists. I often forget it does while I’m wondering, but serenity and light remind me that fog isn’t all I’ve devolved into. Rain will come, and so will spring.
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 9:39 PM UTC
broken apart
devolved to
bits and pieces,
mere shards of who
I once was; we are never
the same as we were
before—each day steals
from and gives to us
pieces of ourselves,
and by now I
know the day steals
more from me
than it gives,
and soon I'll have
eroded completely,
incandescently sifting
away in the starlit
scenery of old
times and fond
thoughts.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 11:03 PM UTC
Dear Science and Math,
I pray to you because you are what I believe in. Today is the midterm elections for 2018, and boy are we in a mess. Evolution, I would like to apologize that we have devolved as a society to allow our government to function as a really terrible sitcom. Economics and Statistics, I feel your heavy gaze as we still have 2 more years before we hopefully take the bankrupt millionaire out of office. Every day we live under a system whose poster child mocks its citizens and strips the majority of their rights. Their rights to Medical Care, a healthy and functioning Environment, and a Financial System which can support the majority, not just the top 1%.
Today I did my part. I practiced my right . . . no my privilege to vote. Too many people chose not to vote. I didn't vote for the last 6 year because I felt I was uneducated in the topic. I felt I was flying blind, something I could have taken 15 minutes to change. If I were a citizen of Georgia I would have lost this privilege, because of 5 years of voting inactivity. If I were of Hispanic descent I would most likely have had to jump through excessive hoops because of a hyphenated last name. There are so many people who don't want to vote because they fear jury duty, or they don't want to wait in line, or they don't want to make time to vote, or they are just plain convinced the system is rigged and their opinion doesn't matter. Let me tell you something, your ballot only "doesn't matter" if you don't hand one in. In fact, it is probably working against the team you would have voted for.
I am a woman, which mean only in the past 100 years was my second X chromosome "granted" this privilege. There are still grandparents alive today who remember when, specifically, black people could not vote. There are also plenty of other cases of this "right" being restricted from huge groups of people because of, in reality, what makes them unique.
So, I sit here today Science an Math, praying to you that my little corner of the United States may become a better place for ALL of its inhabitants.
Please let the scales tip in the favor of justice.
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 10:15 AM UTC
Argue, if you feel you must,
Of matters unresolved,
As shades of innuendo
Flavour differences devolved.
As points of view diverge
Despite the rational discourse,
And the heat behind the eyes
Injects invectiveness’s force.
When the fire in the belly
Raises tension to extreme
And the beads of perspiration
On the brow... engage the spleen.
Catch your breath for just a moment,
Smile into the tiger eyes,
Engage the low slung counter punch
With a sidestep that belies.
Your firm control is of the essence
A cool restraint... your mortal tool,
You can argue, if you feel you must,
But you’ll seem a shallow fool.
For your finesse will make the difference
In the playing of the hand...
To keep a nemesis at bay
With your level gaze... as planned.
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
5 January 2010
Jan 5, 2011
Jan 5, 2011 at 7:26 AM UTC
well, wasn't it so oh so beautiful
once upon a time:
a naked man holding a fruit -
fast-forward....
a monkey holding a rat:
hmm...
enter Elvis: ahum ahum hum:
shimmies aways...
if genesis was to be rewritten again
it would be a monkey holding a rat
thinking about a tailor and a barber
with a schizoid format of interpretation
of an octopus!
said whaaaaaaaa-t?
said that.
maze needs no rat,
rat needs no maze,
man needs both rat and maze -
but man doesn't need
rat, when he's already
acquired a need for a maze...
and there's the: a need
to acquire a maze and disavow
a rat...
the human "concept"
of a soul: or animation force -
has become degenerate from
monkey through to rat...
if the ancient Adam was
naked holding a bitten-into apple;
modern "man" is
but a monkey holding a rat.
i'm far from casting the logic of
counting or spelling...
even though i can do both...
that man needs a maze
but not the rat...
in reality: the rat is not welcome...
but to conduct a proof /
pirson of meaning there is a rat:
in a maze...
so Tetris is debunked...
and?
the monkey has evolved
and thus devolved to a rat status!
no... wrong...
technology supports
the antithesis...
the rat is the proof
that a monkey is in a cage, and can peel
a banana!
**** wrong answer:
the rat can bite off its own snout!
¡ay, caramba!
wrong again?
can anyone be right using
this ******* spreschen?!
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 7:43 PM UTC
We live in a world of talkers,
Of shouters, of debaters, of know it alls.
Listening is a long extinct creature,
Unheard of by a species that has devolved to simply wait their turn to talk.
Conversations no longer flow like rivers,
Instead they are puddles:
Started, then abandoned to become bone dry.
We live in a world of talkers,
All raising their volume to be heard,
Shouting that their opinions are fact.
No being is exempt from the epidemic,
The infectious itch to crank the volume dial right
And scream that the other talkers are wrong.
We live in a world of talkers,
Of screamers, of bigots, of smart alecs
In a universe not made for this noise.
The voices get louder, the status updates get longer, the protests get deadlier.
We live in a world of talkers
And soon we will live in a world of mutes.
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 3:08 AM UTC
if i can get past
this torrent my twenties
has devolved into
i know
life will be beautiful
if fate permits me luck
time will yield
happiness, amid the muck
it's a gamble,
let's roll the dice
Apr 19, 2021
Apr 19, 2021 at 10:33 AM UTC
two of them
to my naked, simian eye
are identical twins
though one, a mere millennium
of light years away, performs its
magical fusion yet today
the other disappeared before
dinosaurs devolved; its phantom
photons now without a source
but both poke pinholes
in the blanket of night, gifting
what some call divine light
not I, for if gods were igniting
those gaseous masses, they would both
yet be furious and fiery white
and not tricking my meager sight,
deceiving me into believing, there is
eternity in an eternally dying sky
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 10:43 PM UTC
I scared you?
How could this be?
This isn't what I wanted to be
I'm a monster, can't you see?
Should not be allowed to breathe freely
Look around, look down, look up to the sky
Just want to be happy and live a happy life
But instead I am trapped and now I live a lie
Probably the best option is just to ******* die
If this is my destiny,
Because my kindness gets the best of me
And I've devolved into a monster
And I just wanna rest in peace
And not tear anyone else to pieces
What have I done and who am I now?
A demon by accident, lives being devoured
I didn't want to be like this, I just cared about you
An ambulance was in your street
What the **** else was I supposed to do?
If someone that you loved was feeling pretty bad
And a message from two weeks ago was all that you had
Wouldn't you be concerned?
Or would you just sit there?
They could be ******* dying and you wouldn't even care?!
Sorry if it seems wrong, to actually give a ****
About someone to the point that you wanna lend a hand
I'm sorry that my actions had you running scared
But I'm not sorry for the fact that I actually ******* cared
Out of genuine concern
Someone that I love is hurt
The pain of it makes my heart burn
I'm shutting down, signal red alert
So what are we now? Where do we stand?
Because to me this whole incident is rather unfair
I did what I did because I actually care
Not saying you're stupid but you misunderstand
I only wanted the best for you
Without considering the best for me
The rest of me
Contesting me
Condemning me
To solitary
It's just too painful to deal with alone,
If there were any way I could atone...
For actually caring, for not being cold
I'm done with this argument it's getting ******* old!
So I'll say it once again
I only wanted to be your friend
I've explained enough, I won't repeat
Because it burns my heart and I feel the heat
Out of genuine concern
Someone that I love is hurt
The pain of it makes my heart burn
I'm shutting down, signal red alert
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC
What are we to make of one lifetime? Any given lifetime? Is there a goal for everyone? If there is, clearly each goal is not necessarily the same as all the others, though it might be the same, or at least similar to, one or more than one. If there is no goal to any of them, then what is the reason we live? That would be nihilism. Why, in fact, has the human race propagated for untold millennia? In some respects, human life has evolved progressively positively, but in many other respects, it has devolved disastrously. The way each one of us has lived our lives is a function, I believe, of whether we were loved enough, if at all. If we live a loveless life from conception onward, we wind up unconsciously compensating for the emotional dearth we have suffered by accruing wealth, achieving fame, aggrandizing power. If we look at the 3,400 years of recorded history, there have been exponential advances in warfare, but humanistically relatively few by comparison. As of 2023, there are 10,000 diseases that can and do afflict us, but only 500 cures for the ones to which we fall victim. We have been fighting countless wars against our fellow man and killing millions and millions and millions of them, but discovering an exiguous number of cures for illnesses that often **** us. Why this gross, this grotesque, disparity? And we now find ourselves on the cusp of extinction from catastrophic climate change and the existential threat of nuclear holocaust. So, are we here on Earth simply and inexorably to destroy it and all its living creations? Or are we going to have soon enough a worldwide epiphany: to begin and never stop realizing that first we all need to be loved to love others; that there is but one land, one sea, one sky, one people; that the boundaries that now divides us are not on maps, but in out minds and hearts; that while we live on a small planet, it is big enough for all of us if only we are first loved so we can then love all others.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jul 22, 2023
Jul 22, 2023 at 12:59 AM UTC
Distorted beauty and ****** up dreams.
Tell them not to worry, one day your kids will suffer too.
It's just so ******* funny
It's just some stage of insanity
It's just one more slip
I wont fail with another attempt...
Who gives a ****
Disowned and Accident Prone
Forgotten and Abused
Need I say more
The world is a waste of my time
Everyone in it shows me I'm a waste of theirs
We are all selfish, money hungry, pieces of ****
Is this really living?
I don't think so.
It's just the beginning stage of death
Think about it
What do you feel more of?
Pain?
Pleasure?
That's what I thought.
**** you.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Distorted beauty equals ****** up dreams.
Tell them not to worry, one day their kids will suffer too.
It's just so ******* funny
This growing stage of insanity
Give me one more slip
Promise I wont fail with another attempt...
Who gives a ****
Don't pretend that you do.
Disowned/Accident Prone
Forgotten yet somehow abused.
Need I say more?
The world is a waste of my time,
Don't tell me I'm being dramatic,
Don't ******* tell me I'm wrong!
I have proof
I'm not crazy
Everyone shows me I'm a waste of their precious lives.
All we have devolved into are self sufficient, greedy, gluttons of want.
Is this really living?
No. ******* Way.
It's just the beginning stage of death
Think about it.
No. Really think hard and long about this.
What do you feel more of?
Pain?
Pleasure?
That's what I thought.
**** you.
Sep 16, 2010
Sep 16, 2010 at 11:42 PM UTC
I keep falling in love with ghosts
They flitter in and fade away
Three little spirits slipped wetly into my hands
****** and beautiful; we called each other family
The foundation cracked and poison filled the gaps
They used to laugh and call me daddy
Now…silence and estrangement
That name is reserved for another
Everything in my life was thrown into a heap
Misunderstanding and pain collided to spark the flame
I walk through this new reality, ash covering my feet
Yes, bartender, I’ll have another
And another
///
A wraith tall and handsome extended his hand in kindness
I reached with my entire being
Poured my heart into his chest
For a moment he washed me clean
We laid bodies entwined as poetry spilled from his lips
A summer zephyr under my wings
I was a phoenix
Balladry devolved to insult
He removes the dagger and ashes spill out
My brokenness is scattered everywhere
Yes, bartender, I’ll have another
And another
///
Splintered, scaly hands attempt to rebuild
A heavy mind sits in an empty room
Passing by houses filled with the ones I love
Never fingers to grace cheek again
I’ve become the stranger that can’t find a home
Saliva stretches as lips part
Lungs evacuate and heartbroken cries disappear into the sky
This hollowness haunts me like an apparition
Love…the ultimate curse
It’s previous forms have burned me to ash
Yes, bartender, I’ll have another
And another
.
.
.
I’m in love with ghosts
They flittered in and faded away
Aug 23, 2022
Aug 23, 2022 at 12:38 AM UTC
We were once all agog for the journey of life
Now just a mouse click leaves curiosity cured
Nescience masquerading as artificial cognizance is rife
Likes, follows, comments, thoughts and prayers lured
A slayer of ambition gave birth to the lazy
No will to work, no will to think, just click this link
And complain all day about how your life is crazy
Stare at the screen as if forgotten how to blink
Welcome to Medusa's social media inc.
Share every feeling that's on your mind
Arachne's weaving web now interlinks
A Giger painting has become mankind
It's embarrassing
It's depressing
It's caressing
It's inheriting
The natural beauty that lies outside
Left only viewed through filtered photos
Language devolved into hieroglyphic emoji replies
Tobler's ambition left reposed
Curiosity and ambition subdued
A final word
Adieu
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 2:37 PM UTC
I just wish that my heart wasn't a star
Still shining bright to those that see it
But dead millions of years ago
Something to be wisheded upon
In the careless, childish folly of daily life
Such as making wishes
Pointless beacons of unrequited hope
That drives us as souls to the brink of sanity
And for some, such as the wanderer that I am
It drives us over that invisible boundary
And banishes us to an unfathomable pit
This pit, generalized as depression, insanity
Is seen with similarity amongst pits
Yet no pit is equal to another
Each is unique, special to and hated by its owner
Yet it is seemingly inescapable
And thus loved from necessity
And those who pass us by want to help
Offer a hand to pull us from the pit
But every outreached hand reaches a little deeper
And the abyss of life likewise deepens
Until you have no choice but to fill it
And filling such a whole is no simple task
First a pail of confidence is added
And then several more of momentum
As the hole begins to fill a hunger to heal forms
Where you overemphasize the process
And forget the reason
Thus the devilish being opens its jaws
And swallows every pail you have placed upon it
And mistakes your action for hope
And once more deepens exponentially
So here I lay, contemplating the treachery
That my life has slowly devolved into
And I have to question to myself
Do the stars in the sky hang so low
Because they feel the death of their brother inside me?
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 1:36 AM UTC
Death Reigns
Where to register you?
My dearest brother and sister!
Among the rebels or adherents?
Has this paradise so devolved?
Discharge of bullets now common,
Pactised length and breath freely.
Terrorists claiming to fight terrorists?
The license handed to oppressors.
Teens out to spectate the show,
Never to walk home evermore.
Souls lost and bodies bloodied,
Who bears the guilt of wanton slaughter?
Lust for violence in their hearts,
So easily to fire into a crowd?
No difference between agitators and innocents?
A people whose lives mean so little?
How do you justify the loss of humanity?
Blood shed and death reigns victorious,
Young lives lost... A future gone dark.
© Perveiz Ali
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC
1
the old man watches
his wife fill cups of coffee;
he finds the sugar.
2
raining and raining --
summer's reward: the rainbow.
what is for breakfast?
3
with winter in bloom,
warmth and flowers are alive,
and graves are still green.
4
the royal palace --
a sign of displaced culture.
oh, the majesty.
5
As sun and sea meet,
faces brighten in the dark
as alcohol flows.
6
birds of paradise
hiding the boy's pet rabbit.
such a mellow child.
7
i find the bracelets,
but they are for another,
as aged hands cut fruit.
8
golden fireworks;
a true midsummer night's dream
made for young lovers.
9
holding hands, watching
purple twilight and green sea;
a brilliant union.
10
so close to japan,
but this place is not made for
the cherry blossoms.
11
enjoying french toast
as i think of the friendly
australian woman.
12
i'm an old young man,
both naïve and hardened like
fried green tomatoes.
13
the haiku devolved
within the english language --
more words, less meaning.
14
the one thing i've learned:
hope to be kissed by the sun,
hope not to get burned.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 10:51 PM UTC
I CAN'T BELIVE IT.
NO, BETTER YET, I CHOOSE NOT TO BELIVE IT.
I... CHOOSE NOT TO BELIVE THAT THE GIRLS I CALL MY SISTERS BE TURNING TRICKS ON SOME MISTERS.
I... CHOOSE NOT TO BELIVE THAT MY STRONG, SWEET COCA BUTTER TREATS ARE JUST FREE COOKIES FOR A BROTHER TO EAT.
SEE, UNLIKE SOME, I STAY AWAY FROM TEMPTATION AND THE LUST FOR DRAMA,
BECAUSE WHEN I LOOK AT MY SOUL SISTERS I SEE A VISION OF MY MOMMA...
A STRONG SWEET COCA BUTTER QUEEN.
WITH MORE POWER AND WIT THEN I'VE EVER SEEN.
A QUEEN THAT WENT FROM BABY TO GIRL TO LADY TO WOMAN.
AND NEVER EVER SOLD OUT THE FOOD IN HER OVEN.
... WHAT A SHAME NOW...
TO THINK THAT JUST AWHILE BACK WHEN WOMEN WERE SLAVES... HOW,
THEY FOUGHT BACK SLAVEMASTERS AND TRAINED HOUNDS.
MY OLDER SISTERS STRUGGLED AND EVOLVED.
BUT MY SHORTY'S GAVE UP AND DEVOLVED,
OR SHOULD I SAY DISSOLVED
INTO DEFAULT,
FREE FOR ALLS
IN A COMPETITION TO STAY BLINGIN' FROM WALL TO WALL.
BUT WHO'S TO BLAME?
THE MEDIA? THE FAME?
OR THE TWO THAT GAVE HER HER NAME?
I SAY IF A SISTER IS OLD ENOUGH TO BE RESPONSIBLE, THAN SHES OLD ENOUGH TO GET IN TROUBLE.
... BUT THAT'S JUST ME...
AND YES I KNOW I SOUND A LITTLE OLD SCHOOL AND THAT IM CROSSING THE LINE BETWEEN SOULFUL AND CYNICAL.
BUT I GOT LOVE FOR MY SISTERS,
I'D SHED BLOOD FOR MY SISTERS.
TAKE THE TIME TO GET THINGS RIGHT AND LEARN FROM MY SISTERS.
BUT THAT'S JUST ME!
ANOTHER BROTHER TRYING TO GET BY
IN A WORLD THAT NEVER TEACHES YOU HOW TO FLY.
I GO FROM HARD TIMES TO TOUGH TIMES TO RAW TIME TO WRONG TIMES.
BUT THAT'S JUST ME.
... THAT'S JUST ME! ...
NOW, WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF A YOUNGER SISTER FAKING THE FUNK STEPPED TO ME AND SAID:
"BUT THAT'S JUST ME."
ID TELL HER; "GIRL, THE REAL YOU IS YOU,
AND NOT THE YOU THAT SOME OTHER FOOLS TOLD YOU WAS YOU."
YOU SEE, PAYING ATTENTION TO SOME LEADS YOU DOWN A ROAD CALLED NEGLECT.
THAT'S THAT LEFT TURN YOU TOOK IN THE INTERSECT OF RESPECT.
WHERE THE BROTHERS WERE MEN AND THEIR MANHOOD WASN'T *****
DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER?
OR HAS IT BEEN TOO LONG?
YOU'VE BEEN CASUALLY STROLLING DOWN A BOULAVARD WHERE EVEN BROKEN DREAMS ARE A BONUS.
WHERE ALL BLING BLING IS BOGUS
AND WHERE EVEN THE CLOSEST PEOPLE SEEM OUT OF FOCUS.
THAT'S THE YOU YOU LET THEM CHOOSE FOR YOU.
THE YOU YOU WENT AND LOST FOR YOU.
AIN'T NO RESTART IN THESE PARTS BOO BOO.
JUST ASK THE BLIND MAN...
MAYBE I'LL TELL YOU...
Jan 27, 2010
Jan 27, 2010 at 2:14 PM UTC
Childhood dreams, detailed and cherished,
Youthful ideals, concepts of destiny
Slowly discarded, cast aside
Off-course, anti-catharsis
Devolved in a simmering cauldron
Of so-called detritus
Mid-life-fucked-up-crisis
Perception's considerable door
Care-fully cleaned
Care-freely swung
On silent hinges at dawn
Approaching dusk, against the jamb
Corroded, dust-caked-cobweb ports
Psychic day-to-day crap
Hope crawls through filament drawn tight
Contrived devices, filters and screens
Oozing in, despite the ever-contracting slits
The cocoon we have descended into
A spark, an entity detects the tiniest crack
Strikes the door, shattering, dissolving sub-conscious
To delight, cosmos, ethereal, infinite
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 12:16 PM UTC
one step back
(we've devolved)
two steps forward
(we've devolved again)
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
An inquisitive mind—flourished from oppression into a cave as rich as Reed mine
Where tourists can flood my thoughts
Pick at my gold and sell it for their lives
Stabilizing their own
While weakening my historic rise
Greed increases, and relationships are seceded
Because everyone wants to obtain sacred pieces
Wandering through pixels of distorted visions
Gatherers become hunters
Painting with blood, their own ambitions
Setting standards for the continuing generations
In turn, a figurative genocide
For the sake of remaining proclamations
Paralyzing, terrorizing, and destroying indifferent others
If time manipulates unfortunate events, perhaps the solution
Is just the opposite
Creatures of habit soon face an evolution
Once protagonists reach a state of lucid retribution
It defines them as antagonists playing a role of uncanny acts
The renowned vigilantes use time as their sword
To reenact their own demise and call unto their lord
Scattered within the affluent cave
The people and their children
And their children's children
Are enslaved, digging their own graves while being influenced by vacuous hopes and darkened shapes
The repetitive motions devolved into psychopathic notions
They attempted to escape but were punished for breaking the rotation
Whipped, humiliated, and shamed
The cave insulated the pain
By offering priceless artifacts
Within my knowledgeable den
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 9:39 PM UTC
A fire of desire lays behind the smile
Your fist prominent with lost miles
Tasteless passion that oscillate piles
A cold flame embodies the draught
Torn embers that glows and downs
Faded colours that distract and frown
A blunted clarity try and blow itself
Dismay adorned to encrust destitution
Distractions paraded in devolved arrays
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 2:39 AM UTC
You slide into my inbox
and I roll my eyes
thinking how our ancestors
would roll in their graves
under wildly blooming roses
the kind of fragrant bouquets
they gave one another
on a first date
a gesture of courtship and respect
they would be so disappointed
in the way their Shakespearean love
has devolved
into self-involved
narcissistic
lazy digital foreplay
you can save your DM
for someone else;
I will continue waiting
for my rose.
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
i used to write
the ink that dripped from my quill
formed paisley and damask on the page
syllables rose from parchment and became tangible
now its just chicken scratch
illegible drivel
carved into chalkboards with dull knives
footnotes to a glorious view
i use to draw, paint, tag
whimsical illustrations or swirly oils
on objects both dedicated and found
a distinct style all my own
but now it's all devolved
mediumless and barren attempts
glaring at a skill long left me
clutching and shivering with a brush
i used to hike
i would traverse a plane or a thicket
at altitude with all teeth showing
looking for a place to set up camp
but now i just pace
wearing a rut between the front and back door
studying a tired environment
peering out the windows
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC