Lost and Confused Thoughts (Poetry)
-Untitled,
The consciousness of society
bears resemblance to
that of the individual mind:
many things are hidden.
many things are known-
than hidden.
Many things are unknown
and paraded about with certainty.
Hatred: cool and like wood
in a courtroom
warping under air-conditioned
justice.
Indecision.
Woman in the street-
some with nests
of unknowning encased
round by flesh and blood-
the throwing of a rock
and the sound of breaking glass?
An overturned two-fold
sign advertising its
own demise as the
rust now rapidly grows
upon its hinges?
The scrape of shoes-
broken and bloody ankles
being inspected in a safe haven-
grass being the floor?
The surging of enraged flesh
blindly and brutally attacking
itself-
wounds fractures death-
in an attempt at liberation
from internal/external
beasts roaming savagely
throughout the collective
and individual minds?
I think not, therefore I am
aware of their
retirement to homes
only to say no to themselves
instead of street people who
speak pollution
and give home to-
in the wrinkles of their flesh-
all that man despises
due to their desire
to be apart of it.