Unseen, Unheard

 

I'm looking up into the sky

and calling the angels on high

to help me live for a broken dream,

though I am in pain from the beam

of fluorescent light, burning my eyes

and all the bullies, pushing lies

while stepping over minds and hearts

while playing but a game of darts.


So they push past with recognition.

I shield, for I am on a mission.

I go unseen, I go unheard,

and though I paint, my picture's blurred

by a fog in which great minds are lost

and quality of life is tossed


into a box, of gold and jewels

to be sold for profit. Made a fool

is every man who bows in fear

of being hunted like a deer.


So quiet, he can hide away

or agree to pull an elaborate sleigh

of gifts for children of the rich

so they can drape in gaudy kitsch

and divert on the TV screens

and hypnotize to keep their means.


So lost is the meaning of life,

and lost is purpose in the strife

to stay standing and feed the brood

with nothing that is truly food,

but manufactured lies called treats.

Rewards for what? Another feat,

another jump through another hoop.

Those at the top, they have us duped.


I go unseen, I go unheard,

and in spite of wounds, I’ll sing my word.

I gather herbs, prayers, yarn, and string.

I braid and weave. My fingers sting


2012



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