Strings of Time


The job of a poet

Is what I seek

But it doesn’t feel possible

Hoping for just a peek

A glimpse of what this job entails

As I stumble back and forth

Back and forth

We attempt to push and pull

At the strings of time

Hoping to pause it just this once

Before reality disappears

In this instance

Our dream drop distance

In the amount of distance

We drop into our dreams

We see ourselves

Trying to remember

The good

Trying to forget

The bad

Trying to ignore

The ugly

For all in front of us

Becomes memory

As we lay ourselves

To sleep

We hope dreams do not seep

Into nightmare

Before our wake

But keep us safe

And put in place

A version of happiness

Enough to see the Savior's face

To understand we are no longer in reality

But within the subconscious

Of a religious mentor

The one who forced his

Beliefs on us

Showed us the pseudo

For all around, just like religion is cleaning the brain

Washing till every concept is easy enough for everyone

But for the intense thinker who is viewed as the bad one

Is also the smart one?

And this country makes sense

This is a great country?

When in our national anthem

It states "the land of the free and the home of the brave"

Freedom is only the ideology of the suppressed and exercised by the oppressor

The only brave part to America

Is the few suppressed willing to speak out, willing to take action, knowing the consequences

So let us shut our eyes

Blind ourselves, so things seem right

Drift off into the true land of freedom

Where anything goes

Where no one is

Suppressed or oppressed

Where no brainwashing exist

Just enlightenment 

A place where control is in our hands

The plan, to stay here forever or as long as we can

Until reality and the terrors of this world is revealed to us once again


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