Sunday, April 24, 2011

The Search is on

I scramble through this wilderness
Not know where to land
The dreams I had seen
Seems to have diluted
In the poisonous waters of the plastic ocean.

This exhibionist world demands my obedience
But I beg to differ
For THEY know not
My happiness lies
Not in riches nor in fame
But in the letters

The clouds of despair
Never leave the sight
Threatening to cast
A spell of ceaseless frustation
I cower for protection
But without a HOME, I know
I shall be blown.

Is it difficult to comprehend a man
Who pursues gratification
And not hedonism and wealth
I says the difficulty is not in the man
But in the rigid dogmas of so called reality
For that MAN is as plain as paper
If those SHACKLES are broken free.

The irony now being that
Hope is my enemy as well as my friend
For it gives strength
But abandons without a whisper
Nevertheless, my will to differ
and bring a change
Tops it all
Hence the search is on.

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