deepundergroundpoetry.com

Stunted Growth

Shut me up
Make all the wrong sacrifices
All I ever wanted to be
Was to make it on the list of your priorities
A forgotten son, a lost brother
You hold the family gavel
And weigh in as I bare the judgement
Like I only love the show
 
This is just the way we were conditioned
Security symphonies of distortion
We will share in the weight of our sorrow
As we make intercession beyond tears
But manifest the groans
 
Is this of the Spirit or a world in waiting?
Sons and daughters concealed
Will we ever be revealed?
 
Going in, this undercover culture
We lost ourselves for the roles we play
Don't tell me the pit is all carnal and no soul
The fist I take is the fist I throw
The atmosphere may have its say
But all it ever was is the art of our expression
 
I'm wading into the depths with an anchor heart
And finding harmony with the undertow
There is no struggle when you give yourself to the pull
And get carried away
 
We beat against one another
Like a full body pulse
In a buffet of flesh, as we come alive
In what's seen in the black-light of our dead ways
 
What appetite am I feeding?
When in truth it's just a different way to mourn
While we accompany a rock-star's misery
That speaks as our own
Is an illness an idol or just the incurable defects of the human condition?
 
I'm not to blame for the cause
But I'm responsible for the effect
I allowed it to have on me
And yet how do I distinguish reason?
 
When my eyes are tainted
And all I perceive is through the compromised lens of my insanity
Lay your charges on me
The consequence of heartache isn't enough
When I have to pay for my sins that were just another way to medicate
All you see is the behavior
You misinterpret the heart of the issue
 
Nevertheless the victim within never justified the predator I became...
cloventongue89
Written by cloventongue89
(Nathaniel Peter)
Published
Author's Note
This poem was written around a couple ideas that were roused in reading a shallower take on a deeper culture and having a conversation with my brother around the premise of making an idol of or as he...
This poem was written around a couple ideas that were roused in reading a shallower take on a deeper culture and having a conversation with my brother around the premise of making an idol of or as he put it "worshiping music." The video is my own take from a Norma Jean concert that compliments the piece as a visual to get an idea of the atmosphere and the moshing that takes place like an ocean of bodies.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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