One day, two world leaders got together
To discuss a deal that would benefit each other
One said, “I’ll paint my country as heaven
but really it will be hell.
People will flock from all over
to drink from our immortal well.”
The other replied, “I’ll canvas mine as hell
but really it will be heaven.
No one will dare draw near;
no humans means no pollution.”
The first leader smiled, “I’ll build factories for the humans,
teach them the bare minimum
and ensure cheap production,
then I’ll sell them to your nation.”
The second smirked and said, “I’ll drench them with education
and dictate the laws of freedom,
They’ll design our ammunition
and set up our revolution.”
The first raised an eyebrow, “You think you can take us on?
Your ego is not that strong.
You’re weak with humanity and empathy,
you will have a crumbled economy.”
The second laughed and replied, “Depends what you define as economy.
To you, it’s the paper trail of money,
To your people, it’s multiple properties.
To us, money is simply
but a tool to enhance our humanity.”
The first was enraged by this plan
for he did not understand
what it meant to be loved, to be respected, to be free;
he was oppressed by his own beliefs.
The second was not too scared,
for there weren’t many who needed his care.
He provided the tools and let them pave a way,
then reveled in delight of what they’d made.
Every morning, I open the curtain
Hoping for some sun to pour in
Some days, I get a shining radiance
That gives a majestic illusion of permanance
Only to have it take a break
Almost exactly the very next day
When the clouds roll in and the rain pours down
Thunder roars, lightning flashes all around
It showers the city with acid and carbon
Melting away concrete that took weeks to harden
I watch as the city slowly fades
Into the sillhouette that was once my escape
A place containing many a memory
That I’ve recorded in ink and written down as history
Awaiting in silence for the sun
To sing its song of frivol and fun
To dry up the gloom of humid rain
To illuminate the paths that few dare to take
To warm the frozen hearts that roam
Around this street without a soul
To shed some light on the lack of humanity
That takes place in this atrocity of a city
Maybe the sun will shine again
Well, it will… but who knows when…
I was adamant about writing
this aberration of a poem
However boisterous, brusque However bombastic or brazen
A cacophony of words concocted on the screen
A decorous debauchery
derived from the dictionary
What eccentric elicitation to evoke an efficacy I simply cannot fathom
this fastidious fidelity
Tis grandiose grandiloquence, garrulous to say the least
Yet somehow this heterogenous hegemony
reflects the dreams of a hedonist
It takes an idiosyncratic iconoclast
to integrate such irrevocableirreverence
Just to juxtapose the difference
between the jubilant and the judicious
By now, half of you are pining for kudos
and the other half await the knell For some, language is lucid and heavenly;
to others, it’s licentious, lethargic – it’s hell
For me, I’m a maverick at manifesting manuscripts,
but mercurial when mitigating a myriad of metamorphoses And you? Are you a nomadic neophyte?
Or a nefarious novice fighting the nebulous fight?
These questions have no ostensibly objective answers –
From the perspective of the young, the old are obsolete In the eyes of the elders, youth are oblivious to orthodoxy
Each finds the other to be onerous and obstinate Blinded by humanity’s ostentatious opulence
Such are the paradoxical paradigms that perplex people:
Are we the partisans of pejorativepathology?
Are we the potentate of a precocious precipice?
Or are we plainly presumptuous in our prepossessing preponderance?
What could quench this quixotic quagmire?
What could quell this quandary of querulous queries? Reveling in the rebellion of words that we write
Wondering if this recalcitrant rant can be reprieved.
This surfeit of saliently scrupulous syntax
Though superfluous, the sagacity is surreptitiously stoic
The torturous tirade tells tales of temperance
Of tenable temerity, truculently intrepid
For utilitarian purposes, a utopiausurped To allude the understanding of ubiquitously underrated words Vehemently variegated yet vociferous and verbose
Though the veracity is venerable, the vacillation is vacuous
Such wanton and whimsical words have been written
Some winsome and others wistful. So wallow in sorrow
Over why the list did not have xenophobic,
Nor xylography, or xerosis, not even xenolithic!
But somehow they’ve included “yoke”…
…this most certainly is a joke!
This effort zealously zooming to zenith
to await the final zephyr…