Posted in 2017, New Stuff

Rates of Change

Once again I close my eyes and let these words lead their own way,
Similar to a dream turned distant memory when finally fully awoken,
Brought back to life, here, from these facts, forced to face, here,
Facts, most if not all, all about being too afraid to admit to fears of the unknown,
Like an Olympic sprinter who needs more than anything to win this race;
As any possible disgrace pales in comparison to these visions of coming in last place.
The type of mental anguish, life tattoos on faces,
Prisoner to these remorse-filled moments; acts of a twisted divine fate,
As if the fault here lies in the administration of our faith
Horrified like a slave accused of not knowing their place
A child left to themselves and thoughts of future punishment,
Left to contemplate; consequences for even the slightest past mistakes
When it was actually predestined, we would take these very missteps.
A slight mishap that would also slightly affect any future happiness,
Secrets from mothers to their sons before they leave the nest,
“For no creature was meant to see so clearly, in regards to what comes next.”
Monsters behind the makeup, aka the unknown;
Prophesy of how still, even now our greatest test is still yet to come,
Problems to be solved; built from knowledge, given appropriate time to digest;
Where each, is meant to search for answers to our hearts desires.
What any would work for, for forever; jobs no woman or man retire from,
On par with any prize, prize possession, we’d all do anything to get back,
For any amount of ransom; why whatever it is,
Any can acknowledge a gift once provided was never just random,
Not when we’re stopped to be asked, “look how far you’ve run my daughter or son?”,
The distinct few, well aware of the cost associated to get shit done, day by day.
Ghost of yesteryears, witnesses to all that’s been lost through the years;
Byproduct of modern times, designed so far too many live pay check to pay check,
Those born adjoined to a new form of an indestructible chain.
Aspects of prehistoric and modern-day society, both now and forever the same,
Well aware of these facts, whether then or now; it’s all just a game to be played;
Where real winners really lose,
The gifted, who others only happily look too when blame needs cast,
Those born, well aware of the role cast for them
The feel of either a MLK or Malcolm X before either bullet;
Enlightenment able to grasp the very chaos laid out before us,
Insight to see beyond all that ales; depth and perspective of a ballet
A perfect medley, meant to be cherished as it swallowed down
A thought so profound, very few should dare to complain with any disdain;
Enough distain to reflect only hate upon a theory or hypothesis turned debate;
A baseless debate at that, of what’s been; aka, the derivative.
My very own personal rate of change.


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