cynicism.

when i was young (now am i young)
i seeped literature like sewage,
no constraints and
words littered from fairytales
of captured daughters
spinning and princesses
throwing down hair and hearts
(ventricles and atrophies),
now am i young,
and i am grown silent,
why oh why silent young one,
why not speak you daughter of
aphrodite, child of venus,
bastard of ever wandering athena,
waging war on wasted humanity,
will you tell of the slaughter to come?
blood and flesh and marauding armies
starving and freezing, hands burnt, blistered,
disappeared and tied with coils of rope and
sinew from the barking dead with
machine gun fractures and bodies
mummified in flame, ashen pallor,
why so slender, why so atrocious,
brothers in arms,
why not words rather than pistols and
artillery fragments segmented in the ground
and becoming rapidly sedimentary
(future generations will counteract out society,
and scribble from the withered and spittle stained
pages of history our good name),
you spoiled compatriots,
just continue debasing your youth, innocence, velocity,
drinking your intelligence from bottles of ambrosia & molasses,
destroying your own words,
keep your child-like demeanor and spittle-ridden chins,
keep the world astray and separate,
demonic and estranged,
capsized and unable to be saved,
with even the most advanced of three dimensional
models and the bravest of
adrenaline-scavengers,
treasure seekers and buccaneers,
one mind floating restlessly in
a haze of incongruous events and
illiterate celebrities,
worry not, the liberal few will bring out their dead and move the stalling world forward on a battered axis, maybe what i’m trying to say is you’re all a bunch of useless shits who don’t deserve the support they have at hand, and i’m tired
of a society cultivated and seeded with popular culture,
an infrastructure of idiocy, hatred, pessimism and immediate offense,
unintelligible humour,
a place where those who can scat nonsense
conquer the ones who struggle with their protesting minds,
their bitten hearts infused with venom and confusion,
why so alone, young one, why not speaking cinema quotes
and spitting irrational scenarios,
i’m seventeen and all i want is to be somewhere else,
where the wild, those who congregate and speak of revolution collide
and gargle political agenda,
smash and deconstruct and build anew, propose and calculate
and idealize, prophesize,
those who are potent and eager
to act, who will change their meager surroundings,
the present changing to past turning to future (heaving, bassooning, coming steady, strong, inevitable, the future),
who will recite the history of the world
and revile its repetition,
we must move forward.