Coming to terms

with a world

that assails at

every turn.



The disempowered

showered with fragmentary

elements of naiveté

that burn flagrantly

betraying the


of providence

that lies at arms reach.



Those inclined

to teach

beseech the gathered –

but their cries

are relegated to static

not a siren song

to be followed.


Leaving the muddled

confines of legacy

debased, hollow, emaciated –

time is fleeting

bell tolls

a long drone echoes

the flatline beckons.

Copyright © 2017 ShunPwrites. All Rights Reserved

Writer, poet, possessor of 2 cents, blogger, recovering corporate animal and eternal student of life, who harbors a firm belief in his Grandmother's mantra that: "People need to get off of their rump and do something". All while keeping in mind that a cheering section will only get in the way.

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