Much can be said
of the dimension of time in our times,
Our messy haired Aristotle
was right for once.
Gravity and forces of nature and such,
Fear of the uncertain standards,
and “dying” mediums.
What can be said of our time?
Not the one of beautiful nonsense,
We are a time but of constant gasps.
Gasps at the unspoken dialogues,
And painful arguments long overdue,
So what can be said?
Much can be said and much more,
But words, only words.
Forgotten means of expression,
Therefore no self expression ordained.
What is the difference between either?
It is self.
Yet never be distilled in the heart and minds
of self and ideal idols.
Wasting on the cultural construct,
On the timing of lost control,
Of lost self.
A repeated, tired theme,
and old ideal.
All of them themes repeated.
A constant cycle.
Today it breaks.
Today the cycles circle no more,
Old idols fall when they have no truth
We live in the era where old idols fall,
And justly so.
The machine breaks down,
so do our machine minds.
To breakdown in secret,
In toil and pain,
Perspective is one thing,
And shame wastes time.
No victim deserves the shame,
We live in the era where our idols fall,
And it’s justly so.Identity
Fix and free thy self from yourself.
Indulge for you and not validation.
A validated lie is a lie all the same,
even when we call it Identity.
So break the chains,
and be free from the lies
The lies that are, hold, and make Identity.