| 1000 Syllables of Exquisite Agony | |||||||||||||||
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| It has been said that guessing is dangerous. I believe that this couldn't be more right. We live in a world full of plagiarists Who fail to receive the gift of pure sight. The insulting land of sad disbelief Continues uniting conformity While we sit at home, open prey to grief Thieves and pain become a normality. How many implants do you have to fail Before you can see that it's not worth it? How many friends have to pay for your bail Til your soul learns it has to come forth? It Is not up for debate, we need reforms To bring our lives back into a balance. Now we fly around in unthinking swarms Denying even ourselves our talents. As soon as the fledgling learns how to fly He flocks to the new popular culture He is taught how to cheat, steal, rape, and lie - Becoming little more than a vulture. Our government run by the richest man Who wont hear the pleas of the bourgeoisie They'll continue to make the worst of bans Even if They're aware we disagree. The politics lie to win our favor For office to carry out their own Will With power They intend to savor. The soldiers become a statistic kill Have you ever noticed that it's the poor; The helpless scorn of mankind's evil schemes; That get sent off to fight in causeless wars Where screams seem deemed silent by the regime. Nuclear war and death are minor details As long as you are right - you think you are The end justifies the means, right? The gales Of Good and Evil confront from afar The standard of life society set - The bar of greatness we all "need" to meet When man abandons this land of such debt. Caught in the turmoil of such constant heat. Our country loves controversy too much We'll debate even the slightest offense. Babies unborn, two men dating and such. Does this affect you? It doesn't make sense. What if it were rape, would they bear with pride? The fatal wish of society's hands, It's not something one can easily hide, When we're faced with such horrific demands Child molesters and parents who abuse Children grow up to reflect parents - thieves They set the bombs you've been forced to diffuse No one stops them - and yet our country grieves. Rebels take drugs for temporary highs But they don't realize that-s all that they are. Moments of pleasure before the brain dies Or before they find themselves behind bars. The media shuns anything righteous Preferring instead stories of sorrow Feeding us these fals'ties I think might just Leave us without our hopes for tomorrow. Religion is all about perception. What they tell you is the meaning of life Might actually be the worst Deception. Don't believe their teaching to live by strife. It's been said that atheists are evil. Is intolerance considered noble? Segregation gives more sin than Eve will Over-simplification's probable Especially among the "loyal" sects Who dare not change their views for modern thought Even with fatal flaws within their texts Or when they say salvation can be bought. Don't tell me that yours is the correct view And I'll spare you the extensive debate. Only so many ways to be construed Only so many groups you can create. Question what you hear, be careful what's said. Accept each other's personal beliefs. Follow your own path, what works in your head. What makes you feel good, what gives you relief. Illusions of love, our hapless romance Dwell on sorrow, and follow it blindly. And when it seems our souls have been enhanced, It vanishes, thus killing us kindly. Finding solace in pretentious phrases Organizing meetings of the masses Sunday trips with smiles on our faces Making excuses for hopeful passes. And what of the life we live after death? Who knows what it is? Who's been there and back? The question of faith is a waste of breath Proving this: open-mindedness we lack. Jealousy, greed, and hatred run rampant The self-inflicted alienation Water down our spirits, our souls dampened Yet some retain their determination - In a world hidden by inexperience, Who stands in the light? Surely the next Christ! But we've always dwelled on appearances Well, who am I to give it a price? |
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| One of my favorite works, and my first published piece. it speaks for itself. 10 syllables/line, 100 lines, do the math. | |||||||||||||||