Friday, July 24, 2015

Lock boxed

deeper than thought,
deep in the locked box:  subconcious.
heavy thoughts, and I plot,
How can I remedy?
i'm not within earshot
Though my mind is the singer
the song cant be heard
By the ears on my head

And I've not caught the rat that stole the shots from the camera of the truth or that holds the secrets of youth
When I was young something was magical
And when it was done
I became dumb
Stupid to what matters
Deaf to the truth

A locked box locked up my youth
and the secrets to life that then I knew
A gallary of snapshots entranced my eyes
Now I'm it's slave or at least under the guise
Running is hard
But I ought to run
Away from the slums of my mind
And on toward truth
Not till I'm tired, But till I'm done

And you should run too
From whatever plauges you
Is it pictures?
The wrong words?
The combination of the two?
Is it a screen that displays them?
Is this concept new
Are you free, unlike me?
Or are we all doomed?

I'd venture to say we have a shot at this,
We can win, we won't loose
But It takes running,
It takes sweat,
It takes death
Of your mind,
then it born again
The question is "will we?"
Will you?

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