Array ( [sid] => 185466 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Cynical? You/'/d Better Believe It! [time] => 2018-09-26 21:13:20 [hometext] => /'/If there/'/s one thing that makes my cynical, it/'/s optimists. They are just too cynical about cynicism../'/ Julian Baggini. [bodytext] => Once he walked the verdurous trees of life,
a tall and upright equal, alive with credence.
Now, in this persistent winter,
like sneering Gullivers they gloat,
towering above the withered leaves of hope,
where he now, so frustratedly, dwells.

Disillusionment wraps him in a spinning parcel
of detachment; a centrifugal pulling from reality.
Reality? What is reality?
A naively/imagined norm?
A lottery of grotesque wealth or starvation?
A nightmare from which there is no waking?
A torrent of horrific images, creating a deluge
in which, even the strongest cannot swim?

Even he, despite his arrogant posturing,
had sought that godly glow of peace,
believed by multitudes, delivered to none.
Perhaps he/'/ll try one, last/grasp attempt to clutch
that elusive straw of unfathomable belief.
A desperate lunge to deny the rising
maelstrom of ever/increasing lunacy.

No, look, there gallops a herd of pale horses,
intent to leave the shattered bones of altruism,
empathy, peace and kindness, trampled into
the mud of man/'/s vacuous existence.
Cynicism, given the relentless stampede
towards the cliffs of self/destruction,
is justified and, hopefully, an eye/opener
and salutary warning against the apathy
and delusion of the blindly optimistic..

[comments] => 3 [counter] => 152 [topic] => 21 [informant] => TheNugget [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Cynical? You'd Better Believe It!


Cynical? You'd Better Believe It!
Date: Wednesday, 26th September 2018 @ 09:13:20 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: TheNugget
Once he walked the verdurous trees of life,
a tall and upright equal, alive with credence.
Now, in this persistent winter,
like sneering Gullivers they gloat,
towering above the withered leaves of hope,
where he now, so frustratedly, dwells.

Disillusionment wraps him in a spinning parcel
of detachment; a centrifugal pulling from reality.
Reality? What is reality?
A naively/imagined norm?
A lottery of grotesque wealth or starvation?
A nightmare from which there is no waking?
A torrent of horrific images, creating a deluge
in which, even the strongest cannot swim?

Even he, despite his arrogant posturing,
had sought that godly glow of peace,
believed by multitudes, delivered to none.
Perhaps he/'/ll try one, last/grasp attempt to clutch
that elusive straw of unfathomable belief.
A desperate lunge to deny the rising
maelstrom of ever/increasing lunacy.

No, look, there gallops a herd of pale horses,
intent to leave the shattered bones of altruism,
empathy, peace and kindness, trampled into
the mud of man/'/s vacuous existence.
Cynicism, given the relentless stampede
towards the cliffs of self/destruction,
is justified and, hopefully, an eye/opener
and salutary warning against the apathy
and delusion of the blindly optimistic..



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