Still Worlds Apart

World …

world

I’ll speak now if speaking is permitted

I’ll be specific how to fail at commitment,

How to fake paralytic, unworthy of minutes,

To be a specimen, not even babies would mimic.

 

To have this world by the pair and be fully aware,

It was chock full of judgment and blunt disrepair,

To then brush the dirt off like another’s despair

unaware of becoming a puppet of warfare.

 

Up the rungs in college debating that warfare,

forsaking that scathing part of youth to prepare

With fake friends as fanfare to become debonair,

And to maintain it became the new love affair

 

With these maneuverings of a millionaire

As one digs and toils in social welfare

Then rebukes all the empathy and removes all cares,

relapsing to disenchanted and now cavalier

 

With social justice as a modern cross to bear,

In the snowflake mindset, where weaknesses are shared

To syncretize new schemes like castles in the air

Attack as the entitled, blithe and unprepared

 

While the rest of us suspired, tired and threadbare

Tired of helping those entitled, and neglecting our own square

As elation was limited unless they all got their share,

we chastised ourselves so those morons could be spared

 

They say that all deserve a shot at the king’s chair,

That those who don’t agree, well, outsiders beware

But if you didn’t earn your keep, didn’t shed those tears,

Think of being entitled, then you have greatly erred.

 

In my weakest of days, I can’t fathom this here,

On this side of ignorance and the good fight elsewhere

But they roped so many in with these false prayers

But there is no reason for these iniquities to be shared.

 

Like pushing numbers in colored suits like solitaire,

To making claims like some self-righteous doctrinaire

Entitlement to impute, with well-wishing stares,

And in their acute pursuit to removing prayers,

 

With that ill repute did they overshoot the stairs?

Did they get that no one cared about those broken and bare.

With those white lies they obscured how this world was unfair,

and it could rob everyone from holding the king’s chair

 

In today’s world we see how hard work is scarce and rare

Like a hall full of people with someone who cares,

How pride was a nomenclature for us to be scared,

And though the mind was working, it was all still ensnared.

 

In declaration it utters of those who are impaired

Those individuals we know who were beyond our repair,

How they breathe in checkmarks of sharp liquid air,

But did they meet the criteria, was everything there?

 

Uneducated they were, but no one really cared,

Unqualified hopefuls at best, but no matter here,

Some believed they deserved it, like floating midair,

to be in that echelon where execs hold their prayers.

 

But they were shunned as such, and it was plainly declared

That there was no place in here for them or their kind here

It was not they were brown skinned, or white skinned, or fair,

color was not the burden, their skills wouldn’t compare.

 

So they scorned us as skeptics, called us pathetic,

Said it was our methods, why they were rejected,

not that they had failed at realizing our ethics

or their lack of common sense was really authentic

 

No, it’s not that they used the system to gain clout,

Or how leaving the room breathless for them didn’t sprout

But they kept on their pouting, screaming and shouting

Apropos, what gives them the right to act out?

 

Adults will not condone their impetuous mouth

But with a new mirror and face they had to break out,

with a discourse on discourse to try and reach out

and when will the pressure be enough for them to back out?

 

You know, that even rats star in this backwards place,

And the devil lived like a worldly king embraced

With people like their kind in this world they can unlace

Undo the blood, sweat and tears that can’t be replaced.

 

To live evil is backwards, a word, palindromic,

Though the world has not appeared as though monochromic

in schemes, and in darkness, aphonics, and chthonic,

Where thoughts get no help from these goddamn mnemonics

 

Like the past was erased, effaced from existence,

all the things we have cultured, are gone with ambitions

and our existence today is unreservedly smitten,

By one grave misjudgment of omitting persistence

 

I speak of this sickness because I am a critic.

Where people have fallen as victims to gimmicks

I know of confliction where all criers are victims,

And that there my friends, is no normal depiction

 

I know of resisting existing conditions,

How logic could state of these sad premonitions

But we are in need of persistence, insistence

So the notion of hard work can gain us consistence

 

Can we throw out petitions for futile resistance,

because if living continues to live on as vicious,

And we here still play that cog in the system,

Then my friend and their friends, we are not coexisting.

 

If only we could forget about all those commercials

About all this safe space and about being servile

Then maybe our circuits could then have a purpose

And partake in the rewriting of hardworking journals

 

Until we stop razing the grain like hessian flies,

And start respecting one another as still dignified

If only the two coalitions themselves could comply

we could wave to this hellhole an old-fashioned goodbye

Together in ambitions we must clarify

We must work towards a goal that cannot be denied

Removing politics from pulpits to then rectify

And defy all the odds and make the heart mollified

 

To me there is no doubt if we open the floodgates,

We’ll fix all the traffic on the routes every day.

In the car crashes and doubts, with our lives on display,

We must figure it out or try to relate.

 

With that old adage at hand of earning your keep

It must be a practice that everyone steeps

With immersion into ethics increasingly deep

So that even the sheep will work hard in our sleep

 

And Snowflakes will fall, while thinking they’re unique,

Eventually they melt into something so bleak

Often not remembered for their special mystique

But for the repugnant havoc their effects often wreak

 

Just realize when they speak, and they always speak

That their soul is still tainted and it may need a tweak

That there at the crossroads, the picked path was weak,

and their work ethic is nothing more than some sad tongue and cheek.

 

They talk a good game but when put to the fire

It’s only a matter of time until they’re forced to retire

And there in the soil amidst all the mire,

Is a puddle of snowflakes dissolved and expired.

world

 

Paul Neglia
Latest posts by Paul Neglia (see all)
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Paul Neglia

Proud father of 3. Part time writer of poetry and short stories. I want to paint the world in but a few words.

6 thoughts on “Still Worlds Apart

  • April 5, 2018 at 5:31 PM
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    Wow! Long rant, but so well penned and interesting phrasing. Well done, Paul.
    If I could, I would move to Denmark. lol

    Reply
    • April 5, 2018 at 6:00 PM
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      I had to get that off my chest so now on to actual poetry and not rants. Thank you for tour kind words Phyllis. I dont think you need to move, i think we need to stop allowing everyone to be so soft and think everything is owed to them. But in a perfect world, i’d probably try to end up in Italy or France. Change of pace would be nice. Thanks again

      Reply
  • April 5, 2018 at 8:29 PM
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    Disconnection is a disease of the world, in many ways perpetrated by our leaders, for in confusion we are easier to manipulate. We are taught to be silent and accept, because that is the best we’ll get. Not true of course, but no-one seems to stand up and be counted. No wonder the world is in such a mess. Nicely penned and evocative Paul, great use of language and rhyme as always. Cheers!

    Reply
    • April 6, 2018 at 1:46 PM
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      Thank you so much Tony, and all you have said is true. Sometimes all it takes is one person to stand up. Thats the sad part of it all.

      Reply
  • April 6, 2018 at 2:49 AM
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    Well said my friend and I could not agree more on the subject – All I want to know is why that Hogg kid is not back in school? Being sarcastic of course I already know why.

    Reply
    • April 6, 2018 at 1:49 PM
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      Sad part is hes probably that kid that bullies these shooters, want to have a rally try one on “Stopping Bullies.” Guns dont kill people, people kill people.

      Reply

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