Three Bags Full

 

The Human condition

A neverending mission

Exploitative fissions

Of self-entitled entitlement

Feigning enlightenment

Was it always that way?

Maybe so

We'll never know eh?

It could be one day we all see the same way

But in my world

My era

There is only one way to convey the day

When the clock finally strikes midnight

Not the bell that rings

From the last piece of scaffolding

So postcards can be whole again

History endeavours to twist a victory

Grovelling subjects abject to inevitably

Chasing the sunset

But from yesterday

A reference to regrets

Obviously

The tide of time leaves ripples

As a lifetime of furrowed brows

Suppressed with toxic needles

Shine as they browse

The lifeline of a like-a-holic, counting

The clown face of a joker, weeping

Lowering to the lowest common denominator

Blood curdling screams rising up from the epic echo chamber 

Underneath the noise it's easy to reckon with the reverberation fraternity

Plugging away without any certainty