Walking Dead

We developed a cleaver skill of ignorance which is ironic

That elephant must be suffering from this ignorance symphonic,

The second you awake, you shed the skin,

Of a winner, of a try-er, you don’t want to win,

Because if you did, you’d stand out a bit too much,

You’ve clinged to the touch screen so you’re afraid of touch,

And that means turning the handshake down,

Without realising, you let another man drown,

You don’t realise your importance in society,

When famous strangers dominate reality

.

I think reality is a subjective ideology,

And we all see things we want to see,

But what happens when you refuse to open your eyes,

Look up at the skies,

Admire the wings as the bird flies,

You can’t even hear how that little kid on the bus cries,

Trapped and strapped to laws that we should decriminalise

We have so much power that we don’t like to use

But to abuse

Using it wisely would involve using your brain,

And without the app it’s too much strain.

.

You get wilder the closer you get to civilisation,

In this jungle we fight to survive the denationalisation,

It’s difficult to unite in this one broad nation,

And stay positive and hopeful, when all around resignation

Is grasping and clinging to your angles like kettlebells,

The unfairness grabbing and choking you so your throat swells

On the outside you’re a normal outsider,

Inside you’re burning screaming racing, like a lit collider

In this city you’re the crowd or the walking dead,

Either or, we all need to be fed

Though most can afford a pasty or sausage roll,

You can afford the time, dignity that the authorities stole

From your son last night, who’s ‘a really nice boy’

You’ve locked him up, now he can’t spread joy

.

You watch the suited puppets run across the town,

With their gold watches and suits, and a face with a frown

The gold plate won’t stop time, they have to keep walking,

They’re blindfolded like sheep for slaughter, as long as someone’s talking

Why call them dead? When it’s you who’s hanging down from the rope

You’ll fight till the end for your life, and they’ve lost hope

Loosing hope a form of dying, just without the relatives crying

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