Beacon
A poem
I feel my world start to slip away
with each mandate.
I try to shut the door
but the authoritative foot of confliction has it jammed
with false promises of "normal".
What the fuck is normal anyway?
A docile state of mind after you swallow the bitter pill
after having filled the written script for coerced compliance.
I rather not watch,
but when I dare sneak a peek
nothing is recognizable.
I feel like the stranger,
the one from another world,
in a world where the most obvious choice
is a choice that doesn't divide.
As the door is forcefully pushed wide
to the terrifying view,
I choose to look within.
No freedom without,
because that is just a life's sentence,
where we must all fit in
and do our part to secure the fear
which in turn seals our own fate.
An alien landscape, a distorted reality
one that was laid out in film and book.
A dé-jà vu read in word and viewed on the big screen.
Do not lose sight of yourself in the chaos
and bow down to the Man.
Remember who you are
and that man should never be pitted against man
as onlookers bid on the cock fight.
Remember we all have choice and voice.
I choose to fight the good fight
and just truly be me,
even if I never step pass the threshold
lined with black salt.
I take my stand quietly inward
and keep my light on.
Sometimes it is the silence
that screams the loudest.
