What the self-seduced meglomaniac doesn't know
could, in fact, kill him.
It's the secret arts practiced in dark alleys,
sequestered closets,
or under a spread of stars in the tall grass field
that churns out the ammunition
which gets transported in the free souls of thinkers
whose arsenal of thought
is far superior in firepower.
These bullets are unlike those of the fascist,
which flatten in ruin on impact,
no, these are more like seeds that germinate,
flower and bear fruit,
producing similar ilk bountiful and beautiful,
naturally splendid
and menacing to those who would subjugate
souls created to be born into freedom.
As with the guitar,
if the head is in tune,
the melody will transport down the neck
to resound faithfully in the body;
yet such human helter skelter
has been unleashed upon the generations
that I'm beginning to wonder
if the DNA is defective.
I guess every newborn
holds the promise of perfection.
Author notes
Well, if you are a meglomaniac, you might not enjoy this...
A contest entry
- The Worst Day Since Yesterday by Naridill.
1000 points, ended July 27, 2008, 6 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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This write provokes many different thoughts and feelings. I love music that has the power to effect my mood for good or worse, lyrics that inspire and depress at the same time. Its crazy looking back at artist who have confronted politics head on and the controversy that persues. This write can be taken many different ways, good job.
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I think you are right about that, and art can really have a profound impact on civilization, in fact, it is probably the greatest influencer of man.
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