In defiance I speak these words.
In sadness I think aloud.
In mourning for the passing of something beautiful,
I pause.
The souls smothered vitality,
offends my frail sensibilities,
as it struggles for meaning,
Covered as it is, in the False sheen,
Of societies greed, like cellophane wrap,
glistening, as if under the killing heat,
of cannily hidden spotlights.
The lure of this insidious commerciality,
killing the diamond bright spirit within,
Until the internal beauty inherent in every being ,
becomes a parody of itself,
Caught frozen and motionless,
like a rabbit in headlights,
And thousands of living breathing souls,
seem to have but one all consuming, burning desire.
To appear on the front of some stupid, pointless magazine,
That panders to the ego, entrapped as it is,
Without hope for escape like a fly caught in amber.
The desire exists, to be famous for at least a day
spending days without end in trendy bars,
of backlit shiny blue glass and chrome,
One of the bold and the beautiful,
Amongst cultured gargantuan's,
replete, with compulsory gleaming saccharine smiles.
Glitterati.
These bronzed and jaded cadavers are,
Dead without even knowing death has occurred,
The internal fire quenched and prosaically replaced,
By internalised advertisements of pure consumerism.
Simplicity and honesty,
buried beneath a learned vocabulary,
all natural expression masked by studied nonchalance.
Something is stagnant when remembered wisdom becomes cliché,
When talk of beauty within,
becomes something old school and mockable.
In defiance I speak these words.
In sadness I think aloud.
In mourning for the passing of something beautiful, I pause.
Lost Innocence and effortless compassion,
I salute you.
Adam Stuart Pick 2008
In sadness I think aloud.
In mourning for the passing of something beautiful,
I pause.
The souls smothered vitality,
offends my frail sensibilities,
as it struggles for meaning,
Covered as it is, in the False sheen,
Of societies greed, like cellophane wrap,
glistening, as if under the killing heat,
of cannily hidden spotlights.
The lure of this insidious commerciality,
killing the diamond bright spirit within,
Until the internal beauty inherent in every being ,
becomes a parody of itself,
Caught frozen and motionless,
like a rabbit in headlights,
And thousands of living breathing souls,
seem to have but one all consuming, burning desire.
To appear on the front of some stupid, pointless magazine,
That panders to the ego, entrapped as it is,
Without hope for escape like a fly caught in amber.
The desire exists, to be famous for at least a day
spending days without end in trendy bars,
of backlit shiny blue glass and chrome,
One of the bold and the beautiful,
Amongst cultured gargantuan's,
replete, with compulsory gleaming saccharine smiles.
Glitterati.
These bronzed and jaded cadavers are,
Dead without even knowing death has occurred,
The internal fire quenched and prosaically replaced,
By internalised advertisements of pure consumerism.
Simplicity and honesty,
buried beneath a learned vocabulary,
all natural expression masked by studied nonchalance.
Something is stagnant when remembered wisdom becomes cliché,
When talk of beauty within,
becomes something old school and mockable.
In defiance I speak these words.
In sadness I think aloud.
In mourning for the passing of something beautiful, I pause.
Lost Innocence and effortless compassion,
I salute you.
Adam Stuart Pick 2008
