Making History Out of What?

Making History Out Of What?

 

What will history make of us?

I think as I read of my peers

Bringing toy guns to school

And decorating the halls in blood

 

What will history say of us?

I ask as I see

My generation popping pills

like vitamin supplements

For kicks and thrills

While their consciousness

Is damned, distilled

Their minds diluted

 

What will History praise of us?

I wonder as I observe

Our idols, shiny trash

Trending, how we play with cash

For kicks, on slot machines and strip malls

Phone updates, midnight calls to the call gals

The lottery tickets

And white picket, designer homes

While we stare in disgust at the homeless

Women, children and men, or worse

Look away from them

And pretend they don’t exist

Distract ourselves with self indulgence

As we feed our demons that turn us against one another

Grave war for glory

And if we should lack enemies,

we create them in each other

Of ourselves, idolizing greed,

wealth, and unsatisfiable hunger

 

As our wisdom grows younger, our spirits corrode

We corrupt perspective and rarely know, what we have done

As blind eyes never see the ugly truth,

And beauty is lost to them as well.

We catalyse hell than curse the ones who put us there,

Unwilling to acknowledge our part.

 

What will history hide of  us?

I contemplate

As I taste our hatred for one another

Dripping from the leaky tin roof.

I witness an epidemic of sexual assault,

An up roar of police brutality

Of corporate corruption

Of reckless destruction to the earth

And I watch the world pass over corpses in the road

Without so much as a second glance.

I see my generation turning their eyes to

Pixel screens

And pulling away from each other.

I sense the anxiety, feel our depression,

Our loneliness, our fear, our frustration.

Those who have noticed,

can’t sit still, they’re seeking

Escaping, racing towards knowledge

Scratching at the walls of society

Crying to get out, and beating for themselves

Paths through the cement

That was never meant

To separate us from the earth.

 

What will History tell of Us?

As we lock ourselves in traffic

And to our netflix accounts,

Refusing to be held accountable

For our lack of attention

This is what I fear of my generation

Numb, blind, and oblivious to intention

 

What will History make of us?

 

This poem is about: 
My community
My country

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