Somewhere, Over the Rainbow…

little lemmings falling hard,

little lemmings lose their guard,

Little lemmings make a line,

To the ledge where death will dine.


and for some reason, we’re still shocked,

when backlash follows the ones we’ve mocked.

When logic comes in loaded and locked,

Words are weapons when we abused them,

it’s our duty to carefully choose them.


If I feel strongly in a certain way I won’t refuse it,

I will look the feeling in the face, let it know that I choose it,

let it take me to the broken place,

in a meditative state, I set the scene for saving grace.

Internally I plead my own case with a story,


I see myself joining in the numbers slipping into the rivers,

I was busy picking, but I still stop short,

I set down my slivers and choose to abort,

and address the lumbers encumbering the path,

Others before me are standing there too,

but none of them seem to know what to do.


Some of them appear to be calculating with math,

others skipping in circles without a care,

others are nearly tearing out their hair.

Some seemed to be scattered everywhere…


A few had developed a taste for trash,

a trend that developed into snake oil schemes for cash.

Badgered by boredom, creators turn idol moments into a hopeful dime,

A tricky skill set developed with time.

While the more ‘respectable’ make it their business to deem it a crime.


It was then I noticed more subtle things,

What each character to the table brings.

long hair, fancy clothes, and flashy rings.

The travelers ranged in age from old to fair,

some cloaked in gold though it was rare,

Yet across the board and bound to be bared,

they each hold excuses they’ll happily share.


In the end, they each will lose,

As they fall victim to the masked face of truth,

into the sharp edges of guilt and blame,

Goin’ down screaming “it’s a crying shame’


Bankrupt to the beat of tight lips and open purses,

hoping good deed bandaids will negate the building curses,

Our smallest steps play into some kind of game.


So much noise, yet what each pawn really wants is the same.

For someone else to love them enough to always speak their name.


Doing what you have to isn’t rude,

If done in light of the truth,

so listen while the narrative comes unglued.

And respect that this one got away from you,

before you reached for a better shoe.


Hit Me!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s