Alas! [untitled] Poem by Luke Britsch

Alas!

The quintessential age of our
peers is upon us.

But we’re stuck in the
paradox of a Russian
roulette.

The metaphors that run through the
opposite side of my
conscious are laughing!

Mimic my culture! I DARE
YOU!

Have your ever danced across
the oceans, SIR! Or loved
like he’s loved, SIR!
I think not!

Welcome to a [trip] through
my subconscious.

Authority! Hah! It is simply
the abuse of power by those
with influence.

But at what point does
“human nature” become an
excuse for what we simply
cannot explain!

If we read between the lines,
or think outside the box, will
we find what we're looking
for?

Or is this space between the
line an unknown which we
put stock in only because we
know it’s not there

…We as humans want, so
terribly, what is just not
there.

Is this chaos born from hope?
Or hope from chaos

If it takes an entire
ridiculous lifetime to
prove…

I’m game.

With our apocalypse, sitting,
teetering on the edge of what
we call normal, acceptable...

We best not let it fall.

Red, yellow, green, or red,
white and blue.

What are you trying to
prove! ? And who to! ?

If balance is the root of
tranquility, is imbalance
the root of all chaos?

When we live in the uneven
utopia of reality.

One thing leads to another
and right back to the latter.

Where are we to hide?

Is, not, life a paradox?
Written on the back of
our heads in tongues even we
can’t transcribe.

Each advance
in that is an advance within itself.

So go, and paint tomorrow
with careful strokes of chaos,
in hopes that someone will
find…

hope.☮