A social site for poets in Sydney.
Amid liberty we’re seated...
In our fine portion of fortune...
The world suffocates, yet still...
Convenience tucks us under a blanket of silence
blindfolded to poverty lines,
War and land mines, Murder, rape, torture, violence
We seem to hide away our hearts
Compassion is a commodity
A pink, yellow, green ribbon
Injustice is a breach of consumer rights!
Dignity is, bought and sold,
Struggle is marketed, Addressed on a current affairs,
only suitable stories are told,
our Media
its mental abuse;
fiction, forced down our throats.
like rape victims,
we let it slide to ease the pain
Ignorance is the first train - out
when life goes against the grain
fallacies are circulated, Regurgitated,
by coffee shop revolutionaries...
sipping lattes
using big words,
proposing untested theories,
about the world and its problems,
Hoping, fair-trade coffee purchases, can solve’em
we sit and chat for hours
Speaking of starved children
On beer, steak, and pancake towers
While 1000 famished kids,
perish within that very hour
Opinions without knowledge,
debates without direction,
Intention without resolve,
A Fairy-dusted Convention
of comfortable lefties
Sitting at that self-indulgent intersection
Someone could fart
and it’s enough distraction,
to set us back on track
comparing our clothing rack...
Our self poise and pride is just,
an extension of a mention... it can only go so far
A persona decoration,
which makes us seem so moral,
in ego filled conversations
A self-righteous form of passion,
temporary,
reaching for personal glory,
and only when it falls in fashion
Billions of compelled voices,
deeply choked in lavish choices..
The luxury is just so good,
that we pay to see a brother from some hood
at some concert
talking about where he parks his dick
But we hesitate and ponder
when it comes to giving something to feed a kid...
this is spiritual misfit,
owed to a curse of comfort...
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