Apathy

Too many times I reached, and reached, and reached for the sky above, only to realize the things I always wanted, the things I always thought of never were.

Looking into the starless dark its no wonder I didn’t see past the reflection of dead destinations. I always thought the anticipation would justify the manipulation. But false promises ended those aspirations

Traveling here and there I saw the head of the beast, endless tired faces and weary voices fallen to theirs knee’s sadly kissing its feet, worshipping feverishly, but not me.

You see for me, I witness the forgotten struggle and unknown sacrifice, I value the dry tears and the numb pain. My eyes bleed in hope for you my brother, my sister, my mother, my father, my fellow, my unidentified comrade, betrayed by generations of apathy, distracted by the methods of this society into thinking this is the only reality. Please!

We are living men, Lions led by sheep. But I’ve met a few, which gives me hope for them and for you. That the lions are waking up, more and more you’ll hear this tone until the current ways are overthrown. Capitalism, consumerism, militarism, and materialism...all ways to keep control over their system.

When an entire content nation can forget that children are dying with no hope of salvation in countries we only hear of rarely on these profit driven news stations, there is no need for a judge, the lack of consciousness means the lack of guiltiness, and that’s the message we must stress.

With no hesitation I’ll hold the limp body of a child who died of starvation, hold you down and make you feel his cold skin till you see it’s not an image on your screen. That this soul died not because there is a lack of food in the world, just that there is a lack of valued paper, money, in his country.

I know the roots of what I say create an emotion that’s making you say hey, I feel what that way, but what can I do, its not me who has control, its not my destination to lead the masses to revelation.

Well all I ask is that you be aware, and when you hear someone like me don’t be scared, because all I want to do is love love love, but I’m in a world of hate hate hate. So if me, or another that’s sincere asks for your ears gives blessings and demand that our intentions maintain your requisitions and the righteous objective...

We are all apathetic, too often feeling helpless and forget with no regret. So arise from the mental state of comatose, and be a voice for the eleven million children that will die this year worldwide before the age of five. Raise your fist for the fathers, the mothers, the brothers, the sisters, that held that child in their arms telling them baby this world is oh so cold, but honey don’t threat, God has saved your soul. And don’t forget you won’t ever be forgotten by me, no more pain my love, close your eyes, we’ll be together inevitably.

So raise your fists if you felt this, and if you do then we are looking for you, so look for us. The Day Night Project.

That beautiful tune...

It looks like the odds are against me, the beautiful tune keeps my consciousness reactive. But the addiction to the sickest drug keeps my blood stagnant. It didn’t matter how long it’s been, one dose and I was hooked again. I forget yesterday and the emptiness never filled but I never noticed anyway.

So when I hit it the heart stops. But sometimes I hear the thoughts of my pages and my mind’s caught, My eyes won’t open so I struggle because its what I sought.
I act crazy because my minds blown. I pick up the dry petals with each one reminding me of memories erased but never reported gone.

Is it normal cause the way I’m thinking is abstract, Should I blink twice or wince to see the facts? Focus my eyes and hence, catch on to realize if this is the past or present tense? I pick up my pen and try of think of the last spot known, but for so long the drug had hold that the inks dry for being so cold.

Things are getting hectic, I’m writing and writing but the words aren’t connecting. The pages are turning frantic but it’s all intercepted, the beautiful tune is back.
And as I fall into the beat it’s really this that makes me weak, it’s that beautiful tune that lets me sleep. Stirred up I look back and see, the wrong path treaded by none other than me. I see a reflection of a reflection of a reflection of a reflection. I can’t believe what I hear and what’s my perception.

The beautiful tune is gone and I’m left again. The pen at my feet again, the drug in my palm again, my blood seeking one more sin again. I didn’t see the life or death when I walked through the valley of emptiness. I hope for that tune to return so I can feel conscious. I’m the lyrics to your beat, the connection is because we blend perfectly.

I look back at the path and you should be there. In the mornings, in the evenings, you should be there. While you sleep I'll watch over you and bless you with my tears. Waking up in the morning unable to give you your dream is my fear.