(poem) - The Age of Rust

What is left for us
Those who dwell in the rust

Days pass by and still we persist
Its almost as if, we are still trying to resist

People still call it ‘The Man’
Because its all part of the Machine’s plan

Its rolling and churning
Doing nothing but destroying

Collecting money for itself
Putting all its riches upon the shelf

We all help it along
Even if you do nothing but smoking a bong

Because it feeds off all of us
In one way or another, in god we trust

What hope is there for a better tomorrow
I feel the death of us in my bone’s marrow

It gives me aches and pains
As fear seeps in, destroying memories within my brain

Is the past the thing I remember
Or did I gloss it all over in November?

I stare into the mirror’s reflection
And fear my face’s deep set aggression

For there is nothing but hatred within my eyes
For those that tell all the lies

Because lies are what got us here
Kiss all the rich people’s rears

We are nothing but the cobble stones
That led them all to there hedonistic thrones

Luckily there is a special place in hell
For all those that poisoned the well

Because poisoned it has become
In this existence that is nothing but bedlam

We strive and strive for things we can’t have
For our wounds, there is no salve

So go out and slave away
At minimum wage all day

As the people above your boss
Reap all the benefits of the life you’ve lost

While I ponder what is left for the rest of us
As well dwell in the Age of Rust.

--Dan

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