THE HIVE (Poetry Vomit #2)
There he wasSleeping in the bedlam of hiveAmong the chaos of excitement, amid the fuss.He fell into a slumber, into the fiveWounds and pillars of religion; survived. But what he didn’t knowIs the curse of oblivion,That will slit the throat mercilessly,Down the throats of his descendants;Corpses in the alley. For when you choose to be stagnantIn our high time to progress, a timeTo shout in our collective intentionsA time to hear the voice of our generation — Then you are a fool,An imbecile,No better than a mule. Continue reading THE HIVE (Poetry Vomit #2)