The Word at War (from Rhyme Well exercise, which is ironic because it doesn’t)

Run! the Old world is behind us

We painted the streets,
Wishing only to practice wishful thinking,
And demand impossible things,
But your answers came in riot-stick defeats,

Words, once a purely uniting pursuit,
Invented to run hunts of bison and boar,
Now they become our weapons of war,
Words of mass distraction to enlighten or mute,

The meanings of freedom were the frontline,
Freedom to consume and freedom to buy,
Free always under your watchful eye,
Freedom to live without dead time?

Meanings were mobilised, yours and ours,
Violent new terms like ‘friendly fire’,
‘Terror’ joined the fray and flames burned higher,
Killing enough for a thousand fallen towers,

Paving stones thrown at policemen’s heads,
Eloquent, maybe not, but oh so charming,
The enthralling ruins of tolerance disarming,
But inevitably, such audacity fled,

Alma Mater gave us inner policemen,
We lost our bottle, we lost our battle,
But coward’s consciences won’t get You rattled,
Boydem soldiers charging once again,

Our discarded words suggest your guilt in this caper,
You weave a canvas of words to shelter from that deluge,
Beaten, we unthinkingly hold up this printed refuge,
But the realisation too late, that your tent is made of paper,

And the Real world is seeping through

One comment

  1. Bah, went for italian quatrain but totally lost the pentameter on the last stanza. I’m so lost with poetry; it’s absolutely not my thing! Advice for improvement is more than welcome…

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