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Poem of the Youth
My dear countrymen, fellow citizens
I write to you out of shear sorrow
of wounded and aged words unglistened,
a call not common of illusion and flow.
Too cliche is it to say how
my heart breaks under infatuation
or how one pierces the heel freshly sown
and silently smile among his peers.
I write to you, disillusioned youth
enslaved in chains of fools gold and coal
watching the figures of utopia brood
whilst standing idly by behind cold window sills.
Disillusioned youth, rebels to existence
we rebel against all things virtuous
Under ragged blinds we stand murderous
along side senility who plot against us
Our money stands for nothing clipped angels
for money is only a substitute for lead
such crimes for the petty and stranglers
poisonous and bewildering to earthly heads
Yet we scream for the cyanide
it gives us unreal dreams, only of material
allows us to assimilate with the all real
not noticing the life long act of suicide
Who are we suppose to be, distant youth?
The devils are long extinct or untangable
Angels corrupt us without Its consent
Heaven a distant memory unfathomable.
Where we stand on earth we stand,
unquestionable existence, undeniable choice.
Therefore, my masses of uneducated brats
How can hypocritical deaths end our voice?
The took our voice, disillusioned youth
programmed fresh enlightened minds,
output cold weatherless souls
No longer our eyes but words that bind
Where are the ears for the blinded child?
If we can no longer see the untangable
can we at least stay vigilant amongst the dark
awaiting patiently for the beast to walk
It is of no use, cement clogs our ears
our own self-inflicted wound
a revelation that it is suicide by sword
but irrelevant if by disability.
Our desensitized nerves feel only gain,
as to ignore the tears of constant failure,
the heat of impoverished bastard disdain,
the screams of the corroding songs we once sang,
To each other disillusioned youth.
Youth destined to never grow old.