A Visionary, Looking at your (i)'s {mature}

[Complexity7]

A poet in the nighttime,
And in the right time,
I might be in your mind,
Fixate,
Fix your plate,
Food for the homeless,
The lonely survivors,
There honest and kind,
But we don't need love,
Just war, and these blinds,
Put chains on our mind,
To control and concoct,
Its a visual experiment,
Whether you like it or not,

The body is a tomb,
For the blood of christ,
But a atheist Will lose,
Because his religion ain't right,
Right?
Why you think I spent time writing down,
All these words, you suppose to learn,
Verb for verb, noun for noun,
Sound for sound,
As the waves pulsate,
In your brain,
What matters now?
Its a war out there,
They ain't fightin' fair,
Fight fire with fire,
Match a lighter with a lighter,
Get your fluid from the store,
Burn down the bridges,
Of the fake friends you adore,
Never have your best interest,
Intact,
Just relax, and smoke weed outta' glass,
Long?
It took you long enough to get gone,
You workin' hard at that,
And they buildin' rocks outta ya struggle,
The debris, is a mountain, Full of hustle,
And the urban community, is full of rubble,
Projects, and dialects, physicians that cost,
Too damn much, no insurance baby lost,
You gun lose it all, Obama ain't at fault,
Its the American citizen walkin round,
With a dollar made of death, illuminati your friend,
They just mumble words of pain,
Just to get in your psyche,
Its nonsense, but it tends to be common,
They get inside your mind, to blind you hoping,
You stop, lookin' for somethin outside the,
BOX,
What you see is metal gear, like it or not,
What you fear is a solid snakes, in the grass they taunt,
They visualize and hunt,
No mercy, no oil, just criminals in jumpsuits,
Not talkin' prisoners, Im imagining tuxedo,
Wearing,
People,
With no feeling, greed fillin' up their cerebullam,
Its the saddest fact, We can't even connect,
On a level,
Because to them, a class defines the wealth of the man,
Not the knowledge you are rich from, ingenious to them,
Keep playin' pretend, watch your reality shows,
When the smoke clears, and the fear exudes what you know,
You explode, in a oath to the devil you now know?

WHO IS IT?

[ladylilith]

A heavy piece of writing. I say that because the words carry so much weight behind them. I really enjoyed the construction of this piece, and it blows me away to think this is an Open Mic piece to boot! A solid and slick piece of writing that tackles some serious themes methinks. I like the twistiness of the piece.

Lily^^

[Jahaliel]

This really had that raw OM flow to it, I read it aloud because it felt like it needed it, and wow it just lew me away. Excellent work

[IronHeart]

Well done for the OM!

That's a wake up call for sure. It seems our eyes get too focused on our I's to realize that real eyes see real lies.

The ending question is effectively provocative. For me, I'd say the who is a dance between the puppetmaster and the puppet.

I liked this, thanks for sharing

[jsol]

alright, alright, ok, get up on it big bro and let your words out. i'm right there with you, i just take a small difference in approach as far as rampant duality, though of course on many levels it exists in forms far beyond comprehensibility, there is such a high energy motivating existence that fighting at all becomes fighting oneself. there is no separation in reality as all things participate in the world in perfect equanimity. there are no "decisions" made by "personalities," except for what is illusory. this doesn't mean one cannot use their illusion (tell me hey now) though just because someone hurts me, doesn't mean that me hurting them back will create any positivity in either emotion or act. mostly any aggressive act will trigger a fear/anger reaction. which i hear is a innately programmed physiological response based upon the survival instinct, drive to procreate and the avoidance of pain. though when the imagination got it's neurotic, ego-maniacal rationality of a grip on fear, it created some wild s-----. you are free. try to teach someone that they are free too. good life type stuff it seems, i mean, hey why not.

[deadpoet]

'a dollar made of death' and 'solid snakes' anchored this poem for me. It has a Ginsbergian, post-modern, post-holocaust flow - like a stream of shattered glass - it is visceral, immediate and engaging and would make a great slam-read.