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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Panic Roomdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: col13x
    Elite Ratio:    2.26 - 119/300/559
    Words: 292
    Class/Type: Poetry/Serious
    Total Views: 311
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2009



    Description:
       


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsPanic Roomdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Panic Room

    The game of the century
    Is running amok
    If mankind survives
    It will just be by luck

    The tree of knowledge
    Our freedom of choice
    Both a curse and a blessing
    In the awareness of life

    We have sold our hearts
    To the culture commercial
    Of unattainable adverts
    Feeding the need and living on greed

    As ego sucks on our insecurities
    We charge on a head
    Waving out bounteous flags
    Of progress

    Our cradle a dumping ground
    Our home an ashtray
    As we burry our conscience
    In our own mausoleum of boredom

    Hidden away in our panic room
    Padded with money
    Frantically seeking the very next meaning
    Addicted to the thrill of purpose

    And our own children
    Have no other answer other than this
    Or dogmatic confusions
    Which offer them bliss

    All constructed to deny the moment of death
    And life goes forgotten
    We live in a prison
    Fed by our need and living on greed

    Comfort and health
    Are now the province of wealth
    While the poor have to struggle
    To maintain bone, blood and muscle

    And until we see past our sea of possessions
    Their life spans of economies made for
    The wreckage and hollow shells
    Of our own no more use for

    We will remain mere “profit cells”
    For corporate materials
    Of industrial
    Pharmaceuticals

    Hiding away in the panic room
    Padded with money
    Frantically seeking the very next answer
    To a society which has no more purpose

    All constructed to deny the moment of death
    While life goes on forgotten
    We live in our own unsatisfied prison
    Fed by our need and living on greed











    Submitted on 2009-02-05 18:30:39     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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