Grave of Dreams — Poetry

I see dead people

Standing ‘round a grave of dreams

Building pipe dreams

Talkin’ ‘bout living above the rim.

They fashion belief systems so rusty

It makes their vision impaired n’ crusty.

Used to be high on adrenalin

All that’s left is bogus n busted.

I see ‘em walk by everyday

Reminds me of that old school musical by MJ

‘Bout “night creatures walkin’ in a masquerade.”

Now the walkin’ dead, but they used to flaunt class

Brought some measure of style into every crass.

I suppose they traded their balls for brass.

I see dead people

And ain’t nobody sheddin’ tears

Not a soul responds to the stench in the atmosphere

Will we ever hear “ignorance done had it up to here?”

People get scared of reopening the closed book;

Holed up in another’s identity acting slavish stooge;

Creating visual concepts for a life story that’s lost its hook.

Their reason for living is defeated

Memories of who they once were deleted

Their spot in life has been duly ceded.

This is the truly dead individuality

Not the million cadavers rotting away in some cemetery.

A shelved life is fittingly buried in a mass grave of dreams.

I see dead people.

I felt compelled to write about the group of people who walk around listlessly in this world. Folks who have pretty much given up on their dreams and stopped living by their intuition or worse, who never took the time to discover the essence of their existence—the “dead people.”

                I Hope to God, you ain’t one of ‘em.

Keep your pen bleeding!

Akpan