Tag: social commentary

Chanting At Picket Fences

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Today feels different from the rest, you and I both sense the pressure.

These thoughts have never strangled me, I barely grasp the rugged texture.

The newscasters are casting spells, the words – not making any sense.

We hold the ground through unfair rains, we hide it from the violence.

We heed the facts so frantically, we hail them for our innocence.

No empathy fired from the other side though,

Silence building like a picket fence.

I see you through the white and gold, the metal gates keep clanking back.

The less you hear the rawest truths, the more you highlight what we lack.

What is the answer to your prayers? What is your plan for standing down?!

Let’s hope our chants aren’t distracting, please don’t be bothered while some drown.

…But there’s no shame in being proud for doubting wrongly taken crowns.

Don’t smile when burning the dictionary pages

To turn the word “voice” strictly into a noun.

-JW

Building A Lullaby

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The perfect balance does not exist on a faulty planet

And destiny keeps playing drums on polished granite.

The rhythm section is not coming along as planned.

It sometimes scares me – here we stand

Just to end up as few grains of sand.

I try to amplify the echoes but they all fall flat on the ground.

Plastic crates, even metal cages do not resonate the sound.

The lurking chords are getting wider with nowhere to go

So I talk in my sleep while it snows.

At least my nightmares have something to show.

-JW

Another Disaster in Time

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I’ve been thinking a lot about loyalty lately and coming to terms with the fact

That the one bullet I cannot escape is being true to myself.

No, I’m not an act.

Many say I lack vision, others claim I come off as abrasive, lacking basic tact,

But who really hears their whispers when life and I, we signed this secret pact.

It was a summer day and my chest was burning – it was bursting lies, spitting pain:

I’m lying on the floor, counting voices, waiting for someone else to take the blame.

My hand reaches for the last sip of poisoned wine.

Someone pulls the emergency brakes on the train.

I sit up, wide-eyed in disbelief and I swear – someone muttered my name.

Knowing everything I’ve learned now I’d say it was my consciousness calling me home.

Yet – that feeling wasn’t present, it felt like my future has dialed the crisis phone.

It struck me that as long as I got myself in this fidgety world, I’m not completely unknown.

So I’ve been thinking a lot about loyalty lately and how without it you’re utterly alone.

An unmarked graveyard representing another disaster in time,

And, not to sound cynical, nothing’s blanker than a penniless crime.

So I’m pulling it all together, drawing a full circle – not betting a dime.

I must win the loyalty back. Be it a silent prayer or a pantomime.

-JW

Doubting // To Another Day

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This story is only partly true so you will have to imagine the rest.

The re-teller never existed. To you she might seem real…

Or was it all a test?

No, no, I’m quite sure that the narrative is truer than the actual story

And the voice sounds realistic but also too arrogant.

(Has she ever muttered “sorry”?)

To anyone reading this – please don’t jump to conclusions harshly.

If you say that I’m to blame, I will accept it.

At least, partly.

So enjoy the show and take the orchestra home if you can’t sit through.

Because the drums and the violins might hit some chords

Resonating with you,

Too.

***

My head has been bed bound for a decade and counting.

Nothing grows in a ceaseless fire,

It’s a storm of blips. It’s a form of drowning.

The clouds move unsurely through the stickiest nectar.

I imagine this is what death feels like

Because anxiety is my faithful specter.

My limbs are tranquil while the chest goes full Urie

And the focus is stolen from me,

The emptiness is filled with fury.

What about the jury?

Are they still out and about, ignoring the verdict they are going to serve me?

I look around. “In the time of need did they all desert me?”

Helplessness locks my senses, the room turns black. I bow to the unimaginable.

Not the first time someone called my pain unfashionable,

Even easily eradicable.

Yes, my head has been bed bound for a decade and counting.

And yes, I can take another day of drowning.

I can take another head recounting.

But please take away all the shouting.

You’re not understanding what you are doubting –

And I’m simply looking for mounting,

For someone who doesn’t suffocate by shrouding.

-JW

Night Terrors

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I saw curious things happening over and over:

Panicky disco stars bursting open the backdoor,

Laying under the covers, miserably needing a shower.

I was tongue tied but Jay kicked them on the floor.

Three women waltzed in, severed head in each hand.

Our sheets soaked in tears of virgins awaiting suicides.

Is this a movie scene? Can I at least pretend?

Suddenly, I was sinking like USS Silversides.

You don’t have to believe me when I tell you this last part

But I swam through the trench for hours, encrypting signs.

Corrupted brain exponentially filling with rage, growing smart…

I vomited numbers yet no one tried to read between the lines.

Then someone opened the blinds.

-JW

Taking Cover

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He first saw you the night you turned nineteen,

Bleach blond fantasies, mind desperate, yet keen.

Outskirts of desert formed your idea of love –

Now you have a pocketful with nowhere to shove.

He seemed to forget all the lessons you taught

And maybe too often he called you a fraud.

The years will fly by, the betrayal – remain.

The time will teach you to breathe but not to refrain.

He now has a mansion and a Las Vegas wife,

The most cheerful things that money can buy.

You can’t help but take it in, moment or more,

Before spiraling, throwing out all you deplore.

…He knew you never stood a chance against a goner,

Too lonely to cry for help, too scared to dishonor.

But you didn’t go back to the deserts he mudded

So maybe, just maybe, you’ve always known that’s it better

To run for cover.

-JW

The Two Sided Mirror

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Is there a point to this inner monologue anymore?

We’ve lost the sight of the shore, leftover memories spilled on the floor.

So hang me from another abandoned telegraph-pole –

This prolonged, unrequited speech is sultry, yet its plot has a hole,

A breakage as deep as my moon-drenched sentiments, or deeper.

No matter how hard I’m trying to exit this conversation, the catwalk gets steeper.

The sun has damaged my jet black self-pity, turned it dark blue,

And the wire I’m trying to cut has outgrown my wits, erased the last clues.

But maybe I’m not free to escape this two sided mirror image at all?

United with ones and zeros I stand, united I fall –

To pieces, like a high-end chandelier crashing on a white marble floor.

Is there a point to anything but this inner monologue anymore?!

Because they have taken away the door.

I have taken away the door.

–JW

Barely

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The glitz and the glamour are ruining our youth –

Too much lipstick, too short of a skirt,

The heels are too high, the words are too brute.

You can’t be book smart if you’re also a flirt.

The anarchism is teasing their brain.

No politics for teens! Stay in your lane.

Shut it, what do you know about pain?

Let’s all follow The Dream and stay insane.

The information is spreading too fast –

When I was twenty, I had a blast.

Now they’re opposing. Who even asked?!

When opinions are given, theirs should go last.

(The reality is changing them too early.

Time is running out, most of them aren’t treated fairly.

But you would rather look away than answer sincerely?

When you claim the youth is pampered, I would say – barely.)

-JW

Tinseltown

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A-listers with bleached morals and dead eyes –

They munch on diamonds while I’m forced to eat led pies.

Lies. Sabotage. Saying I’m a carbon copy.

The next I know – he wants to make me into a trophy.

Is this the place losers are produced and turned into stars?

The slower they age, the faster they drive their cars.

Fake condolences mixed with beauty tips from the rotten.

Everyone without a dollar to their name trying to get their shot in.

“Hollywood infected your brain,” Marina sang in the rain.

It also spread through the bodies of many, even the sane.

But tinsels don’t cast a reflection in the darkest place.

Fabricated ideals remain untrue, even if manufactured in lace.

–JW

Tense

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Anxiety is making me choke on dry bones,

I spit up barb wire. I’m in there alone.

The pressure rings louder than my ears can take,

It’s unsettling. I’m in there alone and I mustn’t hesitate.

I can’t play it safe.

The crashes and wrecks continue to frighten

But the guards are awake so I’m keeping it silent.

My nails are scraping the floors and the vents.

Where is the end?

Every turn keeps coming back to yesterday’s events:

Two fingers of whiskey, three unpaid rents.

Your lungs made of glass, heart filled with gasoline.

Might get you high, might be a fast release.

I’m grabbing my own hair, pulling out grenade rings.

Would kiss a chainsaw just so I don’t have to think.

But you knew it already – my ego is made out of dangerous things.

If you escape the hellfire by jumping in water,

your boat will sink.

-JW