His dilemma

every morning
I rise and face
the firing squad

every morning
there is one
who holds his fire

his dilemma
is my system
of belief

they fire rounds
but I am seldom
in their circle

a quiet mind
is labeled 'sound'
and colored purple

my little boy
has not yet learned
to color within lines

his jumbled diction
has not yet learned
our contradiction

we speak of art
with flaming passion
then do work
void of compassion

and wonder why
reality is bleeding fiction.

by Saul Williams

Comments (14)

Thanks for the lovely poem shared, Congrats for the POTD.
The word so almost rings in sound like a bell because there's so much variation to its effect and rhyme I almost feel my senses burning.
A ballad of the Proverbs, truly sets you thinking hard. Lovely poem shared. Thanks poet.
so hurriedly you act that you run into bad luck; so tight you embrace that your catch slips away.
He lived in the 1400's but the message is still relevant today 600+ years later. I thought I might get hung up on archais language or style but the poem flows smoothly from start to finish. If I were allowed to rate the poem, I would give it a ten.
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