The Wings Beat Against The Wind Poem by Stayin Song

By Josh Rodriguez

The wings beat against the wind
Like a mother does a rug
As she cleans it of dust and dirt and disappointment
And most importantly disgrace.
Watching her child soar away,
Against the wind but with the chill.
Soaring to a place where relapse is commonplace
And everyone savors their last cigarette-
Rather pointlessly,
Seeing as how they all have 100 of them
In the span of their lives.
But inspiration is endless
In the clang and bang of industrial song
And the engines roaring like death.
It all rings as true as anything
As Mozart or Lennon composed.

And those wings beat against the wind
Like tired eyelids struggling
To not dropp the curtain of sleep and slumber
And serene senselessness.
Because there is work to be done.
There is manpower needed to establish peace,
Then peace needed to tear manpower to bits.
Absolute bits.
But it never happens that way.
The complications of simplicity always get in the way,
It's a shame.
The former blossoms and the latter decays
Like the mental states of everyone
That realizes life's defeats outnumber its triumphs,
But fail to hold those triumphs in high enough esteem.

And then the final beat of the wings,
Beating like the sad, urban, dull, droning drum
Of uprising.
While the youth get angry,
But have no ambition.
And they acquire faith after they convince themselves
There's nothing they can do.
Faith-
An absolute, f*cking cop out.