ain’t no music to be played really doesn’t matter the song’s been heard before with words that make promises never kept for some reason folks always joined in on the chorus guess flaws are easily concealed when the number of voices are multiplied but those damn solos never seem to attract a crowd of participants it’s hard to stand up and raise your voice when there’s uncertainty and a voting audience waiting in judgement to contend with easier to just wait for the collective part of the song the chorus even if words are merely mouthed you can’t be proven wrong
distant words abhorring overheard intended but veiled in denial then an all’s well smile flutters before eyes repeated gestures of oppressors seen more times than one can count objective to grease success’ pole before anyone attempts to climb out of poverty’s pit a pit stared into by tormentors from its edge gilded with promises serrated sides from which despots offer encouraging words and relay how they arose from the pit but they used the stairs
we are from the beginning confined to within the lines from kindergarten until we are unceremoniously covered with dirt and placed into neat rows with the occasional rebel stuffed into a ceramic jar a jar to be placed upon the shelf along with the other knickknacks collections of framed photos or mementos from cruise ships none the less we are still confined to stay within the predefined borders of existence attempts to escape through meditation or encampment at some wall to wall walden pond merely represents movement to another part of life’s venn diagram it seems different but one’s thoughts are still within the cramped space of musings of others unable to truly be independent
can your recall their names those people you called lifelong friends can you recall their face their voice the warmness of their touch oh it’s not a crime if you can’t but it’s a reminder you will be forgotten
after returning home to africa a friend wrote don’t mean any offense but after studying history and seeing what’s recently transpired your nation has never been as advertised united
bits of information float by in morning thoughts disconnected from life events incomplete moments of a lifetime seen without perspective viscera specks fitting no where nor serving any purpose just fragments of joy and regret