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A Poetry tDrop
by Wetdryvac
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Reach Out
January 30, 1992
1)
mother
there is nothing
the vision is destroyed
I said mother
I can ��t see any more
all that I believe is melting away
mother
you told me I could fly
you said that I could do anything
if I set my mind to it
but there is nothing
no way to turn the rapid river
just give up and float along with it
or wait til you go down
I thought I could be a teacher
an explainer of the ways to life ��
I thought I could show the world a better way
than to come crashing down
on the so called lesser ones
as the world chooses to term them
those that lack the better things
or anything at all
they start from nothing
they see nowhere to go
and the world continues its illusion
that ��s all there is
not a better place
and the world ��s breaking down
while they all run
2)
and different now, different man
not the one you want to meet
not the first to say this
so get to know me
master of illusion is my name
and all is going well
�� forgot
that you never need worry
my fickle friend you have nothing left
yet your pockets bulge with broken words
my words, my words in your pocket
illusion the game I play
I tell you we are gaining ground
we all have wars to wage
we can fight the communists
if anyone still cares
we can try to drown in madness
we can try to play the game
I will tell you almost anything
and to think my soul I saved
I tell you racism ��s at its end
that the poor are poor no more
that medicine is magical these days
I tell you, you can buy anything
yet there ��s nothing
why ask why
when you listen to illusion
who ��s buying anyway
3)
back to the first
and to be the last as well
so to those of you who think all is better
you can play the game
but the masters of illusion
are the people we all know
the best and most of anyone
fitting fact to lies
to tell the tale
and ears filled up with their illusion
tell you what they do �� is what they all must do
poll to the game called politician
and the people loose
you hear their commercials unfortunately
tossed your way by magic through the air
in all their pomp and glory, perhaps they believe their words
but I doubt it
know there should be a better way ��
some of them must
some even try to fix the broken world
my friend, they say, and please follow me
off to nowhere
I ��ll take you to the end of the road
show you despair
lead you to an impossible place
of bureaucratic nonsense
and the balancing of numbers of paper
I fight the quota I supported
no new taxes but outvoted
few new reasons to see the light
nothing left but oversight by the blinded
no reason to add to that
4)
so there are many cures for politics
drop a bomb on the bloody nest
peace protests, antiwar, black power
flower children
don ��t you know that some have worked?
we can end the illusion
we can learn to ease the fears of a nation
people must be people
but we can always travel on
let us try to look beyond the night
to see a change in the illusion
break it down
before it breaks its own
somebody ��s going to have to answer
but there are no real people left
just a machine
and who can fit a soul among the gears
you can make a difference
cliché those words long ture
fight for what you believe in
go out of your way to avoid harm
argue with a quiet mind to end the pain
for the poor to take up their plowshares
sharpen them to words
who needs the communist
relying upon perfect people
in a land of none
5)
mother
you told me I could fly
so look at me, I ��ve found my wings
but the ground ��s so very warm
watch for a while
keep on pushing harder
all will learn to clip the wings
far from the dirty ground
Fine Tuning
January 30, 1992
my messiah is a radio song
to find an answer takes so long
in the daylight nothing ��s wrong
but how I hate the night
my messiah is a melody
lifts my soul like a religion
takes me to my own nirvana
out of body, out of mind
I have nothing to leave behind
for though in daylight all is fine
how I hate the night
I hold a candle above my bed
see my body lying there
I thought this would scare me but I don ��t mind
my body is a moth
spiraling into the candle I hold
I see destruction in the midnight hours
but in the music I hold my power
I hang on to the slippery slope
toss me a line
my messiah, I am falling
sing me a song
and my body lies in candlelight
as I watch the world slip away
circling down, circling down
to the light
my messiah, I am drowning
sing me a song
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With thanks to the good folks at Hackers.Town for answering the very
n00best of questions, with the following people politely [REDACTED].
May your time go in a manner you consent to.
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IRC [REDACTED]
Poetry, Short Form, With Contact https://writing.exchange/@wetdryvac
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Web https://www.wetdryvac.net
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All the other coms access points [REDACTED]
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