Poetry is turning out to be a very cathartic medium, I should do this more often.
Set the Mood
Words thrown forth like stabbing swords,
Echoed back swift like piercing spears.
Poison flows forth from jagged tongues,
And every exchange bites at the ears.
Ideas take root deep in their hearts,
We chop them off violently at the head.
So do their sentiments spread further,
Leaving us in a forest of our own hatred.
Strike a match and set the forest ablaze,
For what is a minute of immolation compared to defeat?
Smoke of vitriol billows into blue skies,
We choke on the ash of our own ideals.
Grasping frantic at rescuers who come,
Punching faces of our desperate peers.
Cry out to be saved first and grip the hero,
Only to have them burn alongside us.
So here we lie with one another,
Nothing more than charred remains.
The fields of hatred have been fertilized by death,
And young minds bear naught but fruits of spite.
Been a While, No?
It has been a while since I have had the chance to write, and even longer since I offered social commentary on a poetry piece I've done. Well, I'm feeling frisky so here we go!
Having been able to experience the damning consequences of this virus, the debates, the protests, and even further the hate and desperation-driven violence from the riots, I couldn't help but write this little piece. I don't see any progress being made toward any progressive goal, and I don't understand why everyone is content to be immolated so long as their enemies burn with them. All we need to do is hop off the proverbial sacrifice altar, but it would seem the course is set and only the greatest captains will weather this storm.
Are you going to sink into the sea of vindictiveness, or will I see you on the other side?
Kyler J Falk (author) from California on October 22, 2020:
They're both morally bankrupt, and so is a vote for either of them.
Leslie McCowen from Cape Cod, USA on October 22, 2020:
Biden is willing to do what you ask. Trump isn’t. There’s your answer.