Poem Hunter


Poem By Jeffrey Thomas Bishop

I stood at the peak of civilization,
Looking down at the ignorant masses
Huddled below me, hungry for money,
Sex, power, and security. Yet it evades them still.

I've watched youths of strength and courage,
Break down under the stress of their own minds
Worried that tomorrow might leave them
Starving and cold. Unable to fulfill their desires.

I’ve seen old men of power, crooked and bent
Under the load of their financial machine,
Generating rewards that far exceed their needs
Yet they cling to what they have and are hungry for more.

I’ve sucked in the putrid air of modern society,
Choked on the stench of our own successes.
My eyes burning and vision blurred with the schemes
And spin of those crushing humanity under their heel.

I remember the decade, not so very long ago, we gunned down
Our greatest men. Pillars of knowledge, peace, and love, searching for a better way.
We watched as the life flowed from their bodies, and the age of enlightenment died.
Blood stains on the foundations of our souls, because we, shamefully, let it happen.

I stood on my rooftop as witnessed by the heavens above me,
Amazed at how I can know so much and so very little at the same time.
Internal conflicts, worlds crashing apart, meteors flying
Aimlessly without any real direction, into the vacuum void of the future.

And I've watched great masses of people
Dash like Lemmings over the cliffs of common sense,
Willfully falling into the sea of misplaced rationale
Perishing in an abyss woefully short of logic and reason.

And I wonder what it was that brought us here?
Was it how we bent our Gods to accommodate our desires,
Our need for excess, our gluttony while other scramble for our crumbs?
Is it a shortcoming of the human character, always wanting more while giving less?

Perhaps a notion of grandiose, viewing ourselves as the center
Of our own universe, like the sun, where others pass and toil around us,
With no impact, never touching, caught in the tether of our gravitational pull,
A rationale or vision of cosmic proportion, and comic failure.

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