whatyouseeis Poetry (69)

The rich
may lose alittle
but they will still
be rich
the poor will lose
nothing
for they will still
be poor
but for you
who call your self
middle class
it shall be you
we will meet
on the streets
and in the parks
with your cardboard blanket
looking
for a place
thats warm
while your children start
over again
trying
to claw back all
that you have lost
all becouse
you had put
your trust
into the ballet box
of hope

It is
when we allow
the broken voices
that whisper
inside our head
to grow twisted roots
under our thin skin
of common sense
that slowly strangles
our sense of pride
of being
what we try to hide
forever chained
behind a mask
where our tears reflect
our childrens pain
for not being
what we claim

Maybe im simple
but i dont
understand
why do we hide
in the lands
of twisted speach
why do we hide
from the words
that will give us
alittle freedom
that will make us
stand
head held high
when we see the light
within the eyes
of our child
so why do we hide
from the old
and the young
the crippled
and the ones
yet to come
why do we agree
to be called words
not of our name
words
of twisted meanings
that do nothing
but decay
the very nature
of the light
that used to shine
within their eyes
that used to make you
proud to be alive
yet we hide

On your downward spiral
do you not see
the doors
at every turn
the choices
you could make
if only you break
these phyicalogical claws
from the thoughts
that you entertain
the ones that whisper
within your mind
there is
no key to find
for there is
no lock
your choise
stands before you
just push

If we say
nothing
and pretend
we do not see
would our conscious agree
that we should persuade
our morals to believe
it was just a figment
a broken piece
of fear and pain
draging
her broken batterd body
from the shadows
of a filthy ally
into the crying rain

It is when the door
starts to slowly open
within
our minds eye
it is then
with growing fear
we will have
to decide
will we hide
within
our House of cards
with our belief
of denile
that our belief
will last
or will the wave
of our imprisoned feelings
pass us
though the door
to a place
all our lifes
we have tried
to ignore

Do we pass by
like strangers
within a field
that could connect us
where empathy
still trys
to touch the blind
where common sense
hangs by a thread
on a damaged bridge
that spans the cracks
between us

When you have
so much to give
but within the people
that surround you
you find
know one
is it not then
you become afraid
of the path
that stands before you
the path that has
no short cuts
for the happeness
that you wish to give

so much to give

We
can no longer
Live
in the land
of our birth
when what we need
only exists
within Foreign lands
a little Peace
for our kids
we
can no longer
Live
in the land
of our birth
where to Live in Peace
is an illusion
broken
by the pain
of seeing pieces
of woman and Children
scatterd upon
this once beutiful land
by those
WHO have been trained
to spread the pain
to break the Peace
we once held
within

Through the maze
of uncertiantys
through the pain
and the fear
through the valley
of broken promises
and the friendships
they wear
on the banks
of wishfull thinking
with MY bridges
burning clear
I slowly
start to wonder
why
am i here

Is your suffering
becomeing insane
to the point
where you still remain
close
to the mirror
where for a smile
reflected lonelyness
seems
the only way

If
you do not
become friends
with the lonelyness
that has become
your bed
then the twisted
Barron thoughts
that you keep within
your inner cage
will finally
break out
to become
your pain