Freedom’s Prison Tale
I hear the winsome strings
Of a Gordon Lightfoot song
Aligns my mind with past years ping
Where reading minds played along
A Reminder that isolation
Through technology’s mirage
Seduces a mind like a sham
Where intimacy is a pixilated cage
I find comfort in words placed
In precise order that fits
like pieces in a complex state
That paints a vivid twist
Where the song phrase
“If you could read my mind?”
Tells a digital track laid
Firmly on a brain blinded
By a fantasy blended
With a harsh reality
That loneliness has no end
For all hoping for serendipity
Hopeful bittersweet events
Staged in a virtual prison
Where the penalty for unconscious
Apathy is a perpetual schism
Is set for on demand replays
With no end in sight
Weary so weary of escapades
Of evil continues despite
All attempts to display
The true meaning
Of propaganda played
That fits a distorted ying
Where truth is its yang
Juxtaposed with alternate
Facts given to sate
Freedom’s death state.
Poetry by Kee Zealy
Read 322 times
Written on 2020-12-06 at 18:17
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