Unity lies at the horizon – a poem about modern day distractions

Where do I begin with this, To express myself with rhymes and words,

And thrown in a mixer, delivered and heard.  

A beat that emanates from somewhere deep, my angst is felt from head to cold-feet.

I felt mute, and deafened, suffocated and sick, At the lack of compassion and the cut to the quick.  

What happened to us on the day we turned efficient and less elastic, with our endless recycling and our obsession with plastic.  

Have they got us so distracted by the degrading plight, of oceans and seas in far off lands with not a bin in sight, Whilst our homeless by day, are never in the frame, But their freedom’s sadly plagued by their exit from the game.  

Expeliamous to old scenery, to fit the bastards plenary, as we all sit glued to glass and lights, Switching off rainbows and turning on the nights.

The increase of cameras on corners as we turn, And watch the pure of our youth compete and then get burned.  

Our history is littered with nostalgic wonders, Yet we repeat the errors of plagiarized blunders. Perception warped by a tangy distraction, With pencil in hand, I know but just a fraction.  

Yet I do see our concentrated core of pent up energy, being diluted and replaced with dead bile green complacency.

Mental dumbing, cranial numbing, our continual consciousness lazily thumbing,   through pages of someone else’s on social media, then we replicate the parts that feeds us all greedier.

A lost belief, we can’t be great if fat too thin or small, Can we not think of contentment, beyond wifi in the hall.  

And I sit there at night just before I sleep, 15 minutes of a digital creep, not searching for people or a long lost friend, but an inspiration quote with an image to quickly send.  

Send to someone out there who’s a lot like me, Yearn for quiet hearts and safety for the bees! Yes… the bees…ahhh the bees, now we truly love bees, With all that is linked to life and of honey, But those backbencher wasps just see swarms of pure green money.  

And they’ve been with us all for a millennia or two, So it’s not a surprise to us when they do just what they do, But these lessons are not new, but distracts us all from war, As our nectarless voices fall mute on frozen floors.  

Are there people out there who can’t see the link, Of all the connections and attachments at the hip, From bees to the trees to plastic in seas, As the oil in these ships brings bees to their knees?  

The people with no schools are happy in their huts, respect spaces more than us, and they don’t ask for a cut.

No hang-ups or afflictions that bite them in the night, or trauma based addictions that loses every fight.  

And the base of our problems, in this modern of all worlds, where equality is still void in today’s boys and girls, As they navigate their emotions not through parental calm and empathy, But parented by social media, entitlement, debauchery.  

What chance do we have when we want to say, it’s right to be confused, It’s ok to be overwhelmed and tearful and bemused.

And this functioning adult before you, with skills but many flaws, has a path that lay behind me strewed with fails and battered doors,   Was confused like you too, but I just kept on swimming, and never accepted breathing as a single sign of winning.

When perplexed and wronged and hit off course by parental misdirection, No consumption of apps and sites could hide my perfect imperfections.  

And who wrote this new book where labels categorised the drama, You can see them stitching stars these days on stripy grey pyjamas! And if you don’t think for one minute that we are almost at those gates, with a rail line, steam and fog, the birthplace of all hate,   Can we please wake up from our coma, safe from alacrity, more stench than aroma.

Horrors and our nerves desensitised, the intravenous distant apathy, sterilised.  

And i’m standing here with nerves in my belly, And tired with most that vomits from my telly, And I’m wanting to shout ‘what of them over there, What have you done with their walk, hopes and stares?  

I can see them, and their hope it burns my eyes, as it forms everlasting patterns which no-one can disguise, How shocked I am that I walk past them every single day, and do nothing to lift a finger and simply wish to say,   “How can I help, what’s your story and where did it al go wrong.

I’ve seen some stuff on Facebook, it’s why I’m here, nah that’s just feckin wrong? I mean is that all it takes to drink a quote and then to make a change, like it was always just so simple, to sugarcoat and glaze?  

And these social media vultures pedal phrases for two goals, Their cult wrestles with your money and strips gilt from all our souls.

And it’s all fluffed in a package no frills or depth or mess, with quotes, tunes and pictures to work with false pretence.  

This wonderful world of opinions and a million subjective clauses, Where I am keen to cause what offence I can, as my neighbour just withdraws his.

As he can’t think for himself, dress, walk talk for himself, And this passed down point of poisoned worship, It disinfects him, sublime and worthless.  

Who will take to the streets and be free like gypsies, And copy the actions of students in the sixties. And listen to Dylan eat his words and chords and rhyme, So film yourself, your militant thoughts, go viral with your vines.  

A bacterial snippet of what we all think, We are buried beneath the bodies left by media greed and stink.

And it’s you my gorgeous daughter and it’s you my lovely son, my gift to you is fireworks and don’t accept they’ve won.  

Because as happy as I seem, in my suit and ageing dreams, when not with you my happiness, is coffee and sides of cream.

And when away from all your quirks, and crafted wit and charm, I’m alone but filled with hope that your strength will cause no harm.  

It consumes me, the unfiltered, that presses on your brain. But assured that all I placed there, dilutes the acid rain, Which leaves you with the truth and all that really matters, As i focus on your palette as your colour makes them scatter.  

Protect what is authentic, be labelled as eccentric. And the disease that they all fear, Is your infectious hope when near.  

It will make you see solutions, when problems are on fire, and you will fight them on the beaches, They will say that you’re a liar.

As you simplify their greed, and question roots of wealth, Hold your ground my young Horatius your power it lies in stealth.  

Your numbers they will multiply, a million score and more, Go use their tools against them, with insta tweets and more.

So fight against their loans and their mortgage laden debt, As every penny you hand them sinks you deeper in their nets.  

And try they will to convince you, to get yourself just deeper, You will know that all they pedal is linked to all that’s cheaper And has no worth in life, as you search and as you strive, Of how to run in treacle to simply stay alive.  

I don’t fear much these days, as I look across the ocean, and see what humans have become, and what is now in motion.

Yet this stance we take with courage, and belief in all that passes, And it matters not a jot, if you come from different classes.  

If none of this resonates, and feels a little awkward, I ask you watch these monsters close, their hate is quite straightforward.

Don’t divide or judge or hide, just join with us in unity, Let’s stand in line, and once we’ve won they’ll demand immunity.  

COPYRIGHT 2019 PEDRO BATPOET www.pedrobatpoet.com


Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

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

Facebook photo

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

Connecting to %s