illuminated by his lamp...

Feb 28, 2008

illuminated by his lamp
he sits, he sips...
sips on the life not his.
nose in his book
noise in his ears,
rather opposing forms of media he injest for his nightly fix
the coffee seethes his throught and soothes his soul.

reading what he knows not,
listening to what he knows well...
his head bobs to the beat,
up and down,
up and down.

breathing is a form of art for him
his existance is worth nill...
he's not doin it for himself,
college. a career.
catering to society around him.

he Isolates himself,
his music,
the author's words,
the though of being anything differant
then what he is...

this is his life,
the way he lives.
the way he has to love.
its an infatuation, not love.
he wouldnt be here, wouldnt be doing this
if it werent for them

them.
the people of the world... the american dream
6 figures with change to spend.
a utopic society where ignorance runs rampid
and presidents send troops of to their death

its for a just cause, all of this... to keep them alive
to keep them breathing, keep us greeving
and groveling
and hoping for a chance to transpire
into a world not so much like our own.

it is us, the cannobolic society of america
we eat and feed and frolic and die
a never ending cycle in which we try
try to hold on,
try to fight,
fight for a world that isnt what's in sight.

failure is indeffinate
termination ineveitable
these are the evils in which we
embellish and reveal.