Slam! The Soapbox! | Teen Ink

Slam! The Soapbox!

April 17, 2010
By exoticfall GOLD, Windham, Maine
exoticfall GOLD, Windham, Maine
18 articles 0 photos 2 comments

I'm trading my guns and ammunition for pads of paper and fountain pens
I’m done with the blind follow the leader attitude of this civilization!
If you want me, come find me! I’m done keeping myself in accessible places! I don’t want to stand in front of the television and fret over celebrity breakups WHEN I have my own spectral spirit to worry about!
Why should I care about Brad Pitt when my own moral continuation is on a thin wire.
I do not wish to confine myself to a couch while precious life is on the line!
Because the drugs that cure do cure they do what they were designed too
but they also spread the virus of
uncaring, cold calculations toward the concept of naturally occurring, biologically beautiful human life- if Adam or Eve or both could look forward in a flash of time, would they like what they see? Would they revel in the apathy that they would see,
or recoil at the very thought of an unloved world? Filled with what could be regarded as lazy greedy scumbags?
What good is a prolonged existence,
if, in fact, this existence is spent
watching american idol re-runs and eating double fudge chocolate swirl on your couch,
only to receive a condition from this disgusting excess that requires even more drugs to remedy it! But instead of feeling thankful for being saved,
you go right back to doing it again!
A vicious circle of spirtual ineptness.
It puts me in such a state of
rage that I feel like I cannot talk...
But I can, unfortunatly for you my dedicated audience I can and will continue.

I’m sorry.
My sincerest apologies,
you must think I’m a thoroughly disgusting, misguided and deformed
Misanthropist but I do not deny the fact that as humans we have done some
qoute on qoute amazing things.
For instance, humanity did not survive the excruciating process of evolution for,
to put it simply, no good reason.
Humanity is not a
mere ghost in the machine,
so to say, but in a more
pessimistic point of view;
it is observed in history that
when anything gets to big it eventually
destroys itself ,
implodes on itself or
crumbles from it’s rotted foundation.
Like the roman empire.
Or it decreases like the air
flowing out of a balloon.
But without the annoying squeak,
substitute that with screams of pain,
Napalm and burning cities.
Now, I’m not here to lecture you about the hideous features of homosapiens
or convince you that everything is a conspiracy or to burn your books and run wild in the burning streets.
What I want you to realize is that
every thing you know is not a lie.
But, some things are, which some people will not admit.
Basicly, if you get anything out of this
prolonged and poetic rant
it is a plead, from me,
on my metaphorical knees to not
become one of the
double fudge swirl mafia.
Your own spirtual preservation is more important than taxes or
Tom Cruise or Grand Theft Auto Four
or working the 9-5 shift.

Stepping off the soapbox.

The author's comments:
This is original slam poetry.

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