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Emanation of a Generation, A Poem

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So much to say,

it gets drowned out

by lack of affirmation

that those with the spotlight

wouldn't dare give away.

CEO clout and war machinery;

obscene omnipresence.

Where are the true voices of my generation?

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Don't tell me they've evaded us.

In the dawn, a whisper

fades superfluous.

By day's end, obscenely per diem;

yet, you won't see this on

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the nightly news - this is dissent's

silent blues of a minority daydream.

Campaign to scrap the steel beams

of antiquated structures.

Their architecture is built to

lure our spirits and twist and distort.

And, you may not have a chance to retort.

Watch where you are when it starts;

kill them with kindness from heart-filled rapport.

They hock bristling warm reports;

everybody sells more;

we ignore, yet love becomes lore.

Political stop and go semaphores;

frozen and deplorable.

Who is gonna save us from ourselves?

When the truth we ignore?

Is there deficiency of knowledge

in our genes?

Nope.

It seems that we must acknowledge

the brilliance to share in its beams.

Pushed like a germinated seed into loam;

blaspheme regime change begins at home.

Yet, my generation, we stand here alone;

forty-seven million strong;
we're not missing.

Deprecated in crisscrossing

wakes of double-speak,

news releases,

psychologically manufactured diseases,

sensitive opinions measured

and economic seizures.

Lauded by leisure into pieces.

Thanks for the service-based economy.

The story goes Amen to Amen Hotep,

and they own this Kremlin step,

and they own that Washington monument,

we're left of center and centuries in debt.


We've been lent better assurances through kismet.

Got singing quartets
synchronized on notes of recovery,
hell bent on the sheer sentiment.

My generation is too smart for it.

We've been numb enough

throw out their codeine;

redeemed through this poetry,

even as their supreme plan for

the world loses steam.

 

Much like politicians pandering, I am an enigma. Solving only my own puzzle. Maybe?

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