The Sad Loss

 

The Sad Loss

 

 

I have spent too long on the ground,

Too long wondering,

Too long with a frown that

Arcs across the brow

Worn upon a humbled

Pitted face,

And now the race is done –

The battle won by cheats;

I cannot begin to tell you

All the promises now slain,

 

     There was a time upon this world

Where none knew the desperate

Position mankind is heading for,

There was a time – appalling acts

Of infamy were

Only carried out by

Dictators keen

To make statement

To land their pious names

Within the history of life,

     But now we all seem

The doing of the same,

 

     We’re all keen to be heard

And those that care to listen

Fall cataclysmically to the ego

Of the charlatan,

For none now know

What meanings are left

For us to live for,

None now know why

They are here to uphold

The machinations of

A system corrupt with all

Integrity thrown upon

The sewerage of decay.

 

     Society has its place – I wonder,

So do you and I it seems within

This New World Order,

     At least, at least

According to the social workers

Who spout the offerings

Translucent diagrams

Of behaviour forms are

Written, before we

Even came to this place,

Before we were even born.

 

There is no individual now

With rights to claim unique

Forms of expression,

     No tones of encouragement

To find the hidden qualities,

     There’s just excuses

Upon excuses for denying

Human’s freedoms,

All backed up by

Those who’ve sold

Their soul to create

A dictionary of peoples

A bible of psychology

That in honesty doesn’t sit

With all,

And you’re wondering

Why we all

Want off this ball of

Sorrow,

Why we seem so

Dispassionate of life.

 

     Ask a politician

Could he sit within

The streets of Manchester

And feel the kids disillusioned

Hearts as their battlegrounds

With poverty and indifference

Wreak havoc with their souls,

Ask the politician

Could he live among the

Housing estates

All his child life and not

Be affected by the violence

And drugs,

And if he gives an honest

Answer this is what he’ll say;

     Nothing, absolutely nothing

For he’ll be dead inside

From all the years

He had to hide just

To survive the rides

Of depravity and sorrow

Like vehicles warning all

Of all tomorrows peoples,

Whether from the ghetto

Or the money that corrupts

So many children of this

Accursed race,

     And the race is won

By greed keeping all

Conforming to a parliamentary

Need that sends our bravest forms

To death,

     And if then he survives

They’ll do their best

To manipulate and manoeuvre

All grief and truth the soldier knows

And then declare

They put him in his

Place of poverty just to

Keep him gagged,

     But only to themselves

Within the corridors

Of power

That now we know

Sits inside a lie

And still you’re wondering why,

Why the suicides have risen,

Why drug abuse and alcohol

Are forced just to put the wise

In prison,

Why anyone with any

Ounce of intellect

Wants to top them-selves

And be done

With this,

This stagnant way of

Living known as life,

 

Everyone is crippled,

But at least the politician

Knows that money

Makes this Earthly hell

Easier to swallow,

Easier to live for they

Can remove them-selves

From victims of abuse,

    

     This world was built

From the sweat and blood

Of poverty,

The sweat and blood

Of poverty that

Even soldiers try escape,

But the hate is everywhere

We look,

Everywhere mistook

For lands of opportunities

When we know;

     Only the corrupted

Are given head start

That keeps the lives

Of innocent firmly far

Behind,

 

     Yet,

We don’t want to catch up!

We don’t want to live

And be known as succumbing

An agreement with something

We don’t believe in,

     So we sit by

And watch the crazy

Ideas from those who claim

To know our interests,

     Knowing that we know

We sit it out until the end,

     And we’re keeping all

Our thoughts quiet

While they put the intellects

Behind the bars

Of inadequate forms of justice,

     For we all know

They’ll take their wealth and power

To the grave,

 

     They just won’t admit they’re

Wrong,

And the deeds they undertake

To convince their own beliefs

Are becoming the frequency

Of immaturity we know

From those who’ve never grown,

     And like a spoilt kid –

A child who is convinced

They can have it all to squander,

They’ll take us all to death

While clutching all their wealth,

And none of those

They crippled

Will want for Earth again,

As, what goes

Understated,

The kernel and the nut

Shell that seals

The broken heart,

Is the sad loss This World

With all its history in blood;

Has become.

 

 

Michael J Waite 24th January 2013.

 

 

 

◄ Out of Darkness

Old Laddies ►

Comments

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Yvonne Brunton

Sat 26th Jan 2013 16:22

Loved your reading of this so powerful as the spoken word and so well read.XX

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Nick Clifton

Fri 25th Jan 2013 11:06

It is great to find one who may declare his piss-offedness so strongly and yet I feel that those who carry power may take more notice if your grammar and errudition were more accurate and therefore scruptious. I like what you say and you say it well but ... yes there's always a bloody but, if you wish to be heard by those that are in a position to make change happen - you have to jump through the hoops! Not perfect, never perfect but that is the way of LIFE dear boy, take care, continue to explain yourself, it is refreshing - ta muchly, nick, p.s. sorry this is so long.

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