Our Vinyl Death Sentence

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In the middle of a sightless void I bask,
curtained in sounds of wrath:
enchanted by the lamentations of the dead.

Here in the past I witness purest idiocy,
for the human machine cannot help himself--
he has to repeat his mistakes.

My heart is overwhelmed
to know that my race is doomed!
Mankind damned to be a scratched record!

Progress cannot bloom in fields of rocky ignorance--
it needs a bed of fertile logic to lay in
and be nurtured with the endorsement of encouragement!

Unless we humans rub the sleepy eyes of rationalism,
and cast aside out drugged myths and laws,
our mark on this earth will be for naught.





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poetidea_myworld_22 said...
Jan. 4, 2012 at 10:57 am
this is rele good :)
 
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