The call of the wild
Always seems louder
When not parroted
Through tongues
Of preachers
And Gurus
To awaken alone
To the screams
Of a violated
And raped
Mother
One who
Looking upon
Her brood who
Initially were
So loving to her
Now devoted to this
Harsh material which
She can not even bear
To take back into
The depths of
Her own
The
Uses of
All that
They've
Created
Has drifted
Away from her
Soft cycles
For a harsh
Destructive
Linear approach
That leads one way
Towards the destruction
Of either them or her
And so
The call of
Of the wild stings
And she whispers to
Her own who still can
Empathize with her plight
Those numbers few
Reunite to go out into her
And again begin the soft turn
Of her cyclical rhythm of life
While the dead technocratic society
Plunges onward to it's spiraling death
So those who returned
To the womb of their mother
Continue on in knowledge of their
Sacred contract with her
One bound with the
Very fibers of
Life itself
Author notes
*the product of evolution is not machinery*
*...oppression->rebellion->change->growth...*
*change is a good thing, the process i mean, not just the result....*
just a summary for those who don't get the poem above... 
you can call me crazy but tell me why you think so.....
Comments
-
hahaha.... you can never just write about the color of roses or the taste of sugar, can you? ah, but I suppose then you'd leave the world without your unique veiw and creative way to express it, and what a crime that would be....
as always, good work...
i particuarly enjoyed the first stanza, for it sets the reader up with (well met) high expectations.... -
Wow, this is awesome!
Creative thinkin there. You're poetry creates a deep, longing, passionate, witty, crazy, realistic feel! Love it
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