Tragic

The truth, so bitter,
Provokes nausea, churns
In your gut, a scenario
That could have been bypassed.

Vitality, entirely squandered,
Did you presume
I’d remain in the dark?

Those who place their trust,
Find their belief
Shattered by those
Unfit for faith.

Falsehoods and manipulations
Of reality have morphed
Into the contemporary
Sermons, cloaking the
Genuine truth.

Furious, you seek
The culprits, and
They smirk back
Right into your eyes.

They provoke you
To oppose.

Ah, they believe
They’re more cunning than you.

Concealing behind feigned
Outrage, they mask their
True sentiment: terror.

Their apparent indignation
Serves to measure you,
Merely diversions,

A scheme to shield you
From the stark truth that
They are the
Offenders.

The architects of
Agony and distress.

A man finds himself unable
To provide for his kin
Due to these inept figures
In authority.

They have not just
Expended resources and time,
They have ravaged
Your very spirit.

For them, it’s
The ebb and flow
That erases all
Traces in the
Grains.

Simple to be
Significant when you’re
The author of this
Tragic drama.

I refuse

To be sure, this is the craziest period of my life

sitting in this chair,

a helpless passenger.

A victim of the cruel, but with good intentions, 

or so they say, 

insanity.

So, 

I refuse,

To be intimidated, 

To be used, 

To be marginalized, 

To be over worked, 

To be ignored,

To be forced to compromise, 

To be disrespected,

To be forgotten,

To be patronized,

To be fooled,

To be beaten down,

To be raped,

To be told who to hate,

To be in a position of hate,

I refuse damnit!

I refuse to believe in them,

I refuse to let them bait me,

I refuse to let them categorize me,

I refuse to let them believe they are relevant to me,

I refuse to acknowledge the self entitled,

I refuse billionaires who believe they are benevolent!

I need to rise out of this chair of complacency,

turn off the computer,

switch off the phone, 

put my feet on the ground, 

and keep on trucking.

To leave this period of sin behind me.

I know, there is still good out there, somewhere.

A place just over the horizon,

in that warm yellow light at sunset. 

Isn’t that where happiness lives?

I need to find the way, need directions, I need a map.

But for now… 

I just fucking refuse. It is my right.

Isn’t it? 

  

What do you refuse?