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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Tuesday 8 December 2015

The man

I, I don't know, I-I, I don't know
I, I don't know, I-I, I don't know
I, I don't know, I-I, I don't know
I, I don't know, I-I, I don't know

I don't know if I will make it in these foggy mountains,
I'm climbing and abiding I might need a youth fountain,
to give me back that years that we wasted scallywagin'-
Lolly gaggin' learning everything but knowledge,
it was porridge what they fed us just to end up paying mortgages,
in college some do grow up others numb out and forget it,
or give up on their dreams 'cause it's a trouble to unlearn,
then pick up all the pieces as your stacking up on bills,
a rodent on some wheels, a genie working for pigs,
I've seen men give it up to f***in man,
and we inherit failed gimmicks we should be the last ones,
living a life of vengeance, we're done paying for the past,
greed's an open door we should walk out and abandon it,
and worry 'bout our dreams that we never do assimilate,
I'm sure you can relate if your struggle to be great,
as your effort slowly burns out your a candle all in tears.

I, I don't know, I-I, I don't know
I, I don't know, I-I, I don't know
I, I don't know, I-I, I don't know
I, I don't know, I-I, I don't know

I'm trying to understand the price it costs to be man,
having a grand plan whilst holding down the FAM,
controlling all emotions yet your porous like a rock is,
could there be a difference of a human and a man?
The trigger of emotion shoots its bullet through the same gun,
but somehow we all end up taking paths in different clans,
is this self will or pre-ordained deal?
You know! One of those things were we barely have a hand in,
I met this skinny fellow that was little as a pencil,
he spoke a little retro bout the functions of a man,
told me that, "a man is meant to labour not procreate,
that ladies are for babies not for work up in an office
If the two of them collide; kaleidoscope dive
change in pattern, change in ethics, change in gender sexes
can't you see that men are out there busy turning into Katelyn's
It's hard enough already that they are gossiping in salons..."
He went on and on, I could tell he was disturbed,
by the "tragedies" above, of this generation Y,
it's funny, how history repeats;
a people of the past had these "dirty- dirty" quirks,
now we paraphrase on our re-written scripture,
pointing fingers, making sure we cast out all the miscreants
yet, we're all indebted to "The Man"

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