Journal

Insomniac's Journal

Words birthed in the internal

His subconscious' dunk-tank

These words remained unranked

Articulate the contemplations

Of these waking frustrations

Pen in hand

Sleep be damned

These are the greatest thoughts in the land

But why do they come at 4 in the morning

Must write them down

And heed the warning

His memory won't serve him as well when he wakes

If only he knew what was at stake

Words, Words, and more still left to come

Cannot stop till he sees the sun

Sunken eyes

Blood shot red

Sleep finally comes to the walking dead

Monday, March 5, 2012

Impractical Oppressor

The Impractical oppressor
Looks down on the lesser
Spits his game to lame
Never feeling deserved shame

Blind to the pain of the masses
Misunderstanding his role
In this world of the tactless

Get down of your high horse
We'll show you no remorse
One step out your ivory tower
To be met with extreme force

Can you believe this guy?
Even from the beginning
Hard decisions
Always sent him spinning

Fear has always been his motivator
Ignorant of truth and knowledge
He eventually becomes a hater
Filled with hate
As he sits down for dinners
Most often catered
The people hate in return
But decide to save their hate for later

Faced with an uprising
He starts despising
Caught up in the lies and
Can't believe his eyes when
The tides begin to turn
The people start to learn
No more bridges left to burn
No more folk left to spurn

Always led the easy life
Never had a hard time
Stayed away from trouble
Didn't ever think to cross the line

Oblivious
To the world around
Searching for his soul
In the lost and found

Painstakingly mistaken
Never his for the taking

Inaction was his faction
Forever losing traction

To late to stop
Continue crashing


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