Poetry in Obsolescence

The sadness,
….For ‘not caring’ –
For such a long time,
A Time which seemed
To go on forever…

It was everything
And nothing
at the same time

People do nothing.

People laugh,
And stare at the
“idiot box”,
This is what [the tv set]
Was called,
When I was
“growing up”

…Which, Perhaps,
in fact, I don’t think
I grew up much at all..

As.. to grow up,
Like a tree
Requires freedom,
Of thought
Space to breathe,
Make your own

They wonder why
so-called generation
doesn’t care,

What a profound
Those formative years
have on our
And cares

They have
And all the
plus more,
But ravaged by
A society, which
preys upon them,
And Us
With incendiary
dumbing us down,
And even worse

Oh, my..

As a child,
Entering into
Adulthood –
The world bombards –
Is it all “Too much”
I wonder why –
People cramming
info down
our throats..

(Only, ever for
Ode to the
commercial joke.
The system rules,
Yet, the few
Are Awake,

Then, Save those few,
Those wonderful few…
Who I admire,
When they are shot at,
(I want to cry)
What a world
We live in,
It’s grim
Beyond belief
Beyond words…
At times.

So, Back again,
Hurting too much
To look –
To feel
To trust,
to believe
We long to see
To touch,
To heal

And to “see hard”
those little facts
Which they are;
Maybe of the worst,
most criminal things,
But facts only
they were.

Then again,
It wasn’t clear,
Senstional is not shocking
Only dumbing,
maybe numbing..

Poetry is old hat –
I like that..
The freedom of verse
As Dali Spoke,
Dont bother yourself
Over modernity…
But perhaps, for something
We can be awakened,
In the most simplest
of Things
That’s why I love being
And a citizen
Of the world.

Indeed, we
are Blessed.

Pick apart the pieces
For yourself,
Being “here”
Is good enough,
Calm and precise
And wide awake
Is “here” right now –
And that —
Is Enough.

Oh, I want to fly…!

Be careful of
Your worst enemy
Can call themselves,
a friend
We’re all installed
With a radar,
And that,
Is instinct,
Sharp as a razor

Sharp enough,
It must be
You let your senses
Be numbed,
And dumbed

And move about in the
erotic world of illusion
enthralled by it all –
Soap and fiction!
That, is indeed

My friend,
Stand Tall,
It’s only pride
that comes
Before a fall
Rather, Truth –
As much as it pains
Comes round
and carries
Us Home.


~ by Teena Davidson on July 5, 2009.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: