Of Politics and Consciousness

Socrates dreams of my government child, 

his life flies by in a frisbee tangent. 

She still makes me wait on her gender bias, 

constraints of relationships suffocating every move I make. 

I tunnel my thoughts on a stream of consciousness, 

and I mark my existence to a bewildered past, 

ravished desires to return my being into broken words, 

taken to an endless foreplay of my defiled luck. 

Destiny soldier on along the shores of solitude, 

bathed in the blood of my own remains I ponder. 

Seized by the zest to inject every ounce of faith in me, 

to hold the torch of freedom and let out a mangled cry. 

Frequent visitor to my dreams you have become, 

an immigrant to my nightmares too, 

behind the cold steel rails of your eyes I lie, 

drooling over the scraps of our joy. 

Pathetic, pathetic smile of a wizened child, 

wanton wavering rhetoric of the democratic man 

circle around the carcass of the ever-failing society, 

waiting to snatch a moment or two of the eternal gaze. 

Juxtapose my reason and heart 

over the realm of degraded hypocrisy of life, 

while those squandered regal choices of rationality, 

float in the æther of diabolic construct.