Arcadian Sanctuaries Poem by David Lacey

We are a generation reborn; we scorn authority in every form it takes.
We abhor the souls of conservatives as they preach hypocrisy upon the silver screen.
Preaching through an illusion of democracy. We may as well have the monarchy re-instated to glory full, if not simply for someone on which we may solely place our blame.
These dull suited shirts smile whilst confused in bewilderment.

Free the way for procession
In celebration of asylum.

How am I to create if all that grates upon my mind
Are the desires I entertain, in and out of time.
Blind to temptation how is it we may seek redemption
Within the enlightenment of Arcadian sanctuaries.

How strange it is that I should refrain
From the words that remain as an
Echo in the caverns of my soul.