World of Lies

Tue, 08/08/2017 - 12:57 -- phil

From the beginning of our birth,

The world sputters indecipherable wavering vibrations,

To be engraved into every inch of our being,

dissolving into the translucent inferring sphere of our minds,

that ripple through the cracks, out onto the warm, smooth, curling fluffy folds of our tongue,

and rumble into the imperceptible breeze of the air.

We let these images drive our decisions and our lives, every goal we have,

Without realizing the strangling torture of their lies. 


We speculate, trust, and commit to everything

through the echoing slogans they uttered:

"life will bring happiness, love is a beautiful thing".

and so we searched, with the mirrors of our souls,

with our calculating, judging intellect,

and the warm oily silk, that crept through the ruthless snakes of our veins,

insighted us to live our lives by their rules. So we did, living with delight,

in amazement of the mesmerizing specter that was actually Delphic malice.


but little did we know of this poisonous blood that flowed within us,

through the crackled, scorched branches of our veins turning to ash.

And when the agonizing, burning frost of the transpiercing chains around

our hearts are no longer covert,

we feel a pressuring flow of air drowning our throat as we choke.

And everything melts into the nebulous haziness of a dream.

Everything fades, blinking in and out of existence, like an endless switch before it disappears.

This time the world sputters again, our frame just a tattered and wrinkled hermit in

the glistening reflection of the silver glass:

"It'll pass everything will be ok"


And as shattered as we are, our naivety allows us to believe,

even though our world comes crumbling down on us,

we continue trying to find something as hallucinatory as the seraphic script they used to trick us.

My father always said: "Women are dream killers", and as I stand here, a tear in my mind,

holding my shattered soul, drizzling onto the floor, like a broken doll sitting against the wall,

I would have never foreseen that the dream killer was actually the world.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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