*Ghosts of Choices*

[gryphonpoet]

"The man who trades freedom for security does not deserve nor will he ever receive either."
Benjamin Franklin

Spoken in whispers, this soul derides
the joyless intimidation of linear time
until it falls, with razor shards,
around the hulking dusk. Eyes filled with
yesterday's tears fight back anger,
the same emotion everyone felt
and now ignore, in favor of comfort.

Bite at this hand that spoon feeds masses
thought after thought to mold this spirit,
this desire, this passionate lust. Though it still
fills crevasses and breakfast nooks,
the sensation is just as dead
as the burnt hulks at the bottoms of craters.
The emotion touches minds, like the wind
howls across the open, lifeless hole of a pipe.

Sharp or flat, no matter. Yesterday
measured its freedom with series of actions,
taunts and deceptions. Today has woken and we
measure the comfort of minutes lost,
transportation missed and metal detected.
So shoot me and kill me tomorrow. This
self imposed penitentiary has broken me,
and I, too, dream of belt-strap safety

rather than flight.

[alexander]

Great work! I like the feel of the poem, the mood makes me feel sad and angry like the people in the poem. Great job again!

[delicriox]

that is good man. i have been trying to do a peom about your spirit and stuff, but i havent been to succesful.

[gryphonpoet]

Honestly, those topics are way too deep for only one poem. Try writing about a small part of them at a time. Maybe when you're finished, you can have an entire volume on spirit and spirituality.

Good luck and keep me posted. I'm always interested in reading deep poetry that will make me think about something new or at least from a new perspective.

[delicriox]

alright. thanks for the advice and i will let you know when i have a new lead.