Your Poetry Dot Com - dreaming of the final act

Slowly realizing that we are not special, beautiful or unique.
That the only thing separating us from the rest of the decaying material,
is the fact that we walk upright.
No purpose, inept and bemused.
Looking with eyes obscured with yellow tape.
Tasting compressed plastic and cracked freedom,
hysteric screams ringing in my mind,
I lay my picket down in defeat, read between the lies.
Trading inquest for security as the opulent finish their conquest unopposed,
tossing the keys to my blue and white collar chain.
Cryptic warnings of economic armageddon,
leaders tell me to deafen them through cash registers and teller machines,
speaking of noble freedom when everyday I see a prisoner in the mirror.
History being made behind the shadows while we, the visible, the idle, suffer by it, everything is becoming different and yet nothing has changed,
our species condemned to a circle.
Human against human as the tears fall in the gas,
the wise silenced for revealing the magicians tricks.
Divine tomes poison the heart that yearns for righteousness,
kill the soul of those seeking rebirth,
as false prophets seize their tongues and wallets.
Civilization collapses under the parasitic apathy of its enthralled beneficiaries, generations made to suffer the consequence of their pollution,
unsheilded by the o-zone of ignorance they have successfully depleted.
Beware the beast man, for he seeks to be heaven's king and in doing so becomes the devil's pawn.
He alone among God's creatures has broken the covenant with nature,
he takes all, and leaves none,
he rebukes instinct and becomes his greatest foe,
every fertile utopia he makes a barren wasteland.
Shun him; drive him back into his jungle lair, for his curtain his falling.
Intermission is over, let the final act commence.

This poem is Copyright © yeboaheu