Of Severed and Tempered

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Authors Note: To my fellow visitor and possible new friend, thank you for taking your time in reading my content. I appreciate you and the time you took to explore these peculiar passages. I look forward to learn more about your thoughts on subject after you read the poem. When I first wrote Of Severed and Tempered, the aim was to write about a few political concerns I had, but as I wrote it I found that many things had changed in it. I hope it’s to your liking reader.

Please, build your own opinion and thoughts on the poem. I would love to hear your views and how it may have touched you.



Of Severed and Tempered

By: H.S. Crow
Ω

We are bold to tumble into rigid paths in search of the uncharted,
Gaining truths from those that departed,
Yet painting a new life like an artist.

Why do our hearts remain so guarded?

Bombarded by decisions that temper the heart with burden,
We are thwarted from reaching our personal garden,
A life of unfulfilled dreams drowned with bourbon,
Too far gone to be pardoned.

We all carry the weight of crushed promises.
Set adrift in a sea of debt and policies,
Born under wolves hiding in the shadow of false democracy.

Where the prominent mingles in fallacy,
The suppressed bear accuracy.
Yet, ignored they stand beneath their majesty.

Effaced for the sake of vanity,
It was all just strategy to shape a country worth imagining.
Bound with the scarlet ink of tragedy,
Conquered by brutality.

From birth everything you learn is another’s fantasy.
Join the herd and repeat it rapidly before those callous hands join forgotten agonies.

In ignorance we stand selfishly,
Afraid of each other’s complexity,
Believing neighbors to be a potential enemy,
Instead of allies connected genetically.

Trapped in a zoo of conformity,
Surviving our jailer’s indoctrinated community for the sake of security,
Sedated with entertainment and primal needs to counteract the urge of mutiny.
All for one, and none for unity.

Isolated we become with age,
Dreary in our conventional cage,
Squawking  about a fixed wage,
Counting our days backstage,
Ignoring the change we could have engaged.

To be deprived of being something outside the influence of history,
Solitary in one’s strife to claim a new story,
Beyond misery or delivery…
Together may have been worth discovery.

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