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Translucent is my feeling of empathy when it all boils down to it. Mercy is devoid of forging even the slightest amiable relationship with my frontal lobes, leaving me incapable of enacting even the crudest, most primitive gesture of kindness. My razorblade rationale never achieved much amongst colleagues or peers; but the satisfaction of self-empowerment was too enriching for me to simply cast it aside. I felt like a God amongst men, a twenty first century Jesus with selfish intentions. There would be no crown of thorns for me, only the crown of my royal prejudice against society. There would be no crucifix for me to be nailed to, only the painful procrastinated pain of realising what I had become; there was no Judas Iscariot to betray me, only my own wife.
‘A society without a king will surely fall
Understand the inane failure of democracy
Tell your servants, tell them all
“Your righteous lord is me”’
I had taken to writing little poems to express the superiority I felt. I knew I was better than the faceless drones in suits I saw every day; the same slicked-back-hair clones in their navy and black suits with pastel coloured ties. I didn’t flock around the water cooler on a morning to discuss last night’s oh-so-important sports event – I sat in my office and peered down from my spectacular 34th floor view at the city bustling below me. I was above them all, each and every one of them. From up here they looked like ants, and each one of them meant no more to me than the putrid insects I likened them to.
‘The leeches of society walk
One thousand feet below
At the water cooler talk
Petty conversations flow’
I knew I was wavering into insanity, but I couldn’t help myself. Did you ever wonder why billionaires grow to be recluses and wander around their mansions in their dressing gown muttering nonsense? It’s the feeling of empowerment – it gets to you. Suddenly nobody and nothing are good enough for you and you strive for a higher plane of being. You know you can end the insanity by giving up the power – but it is like asking an infant to part with it’s favourite stuffed toy – nothing on this Earth could make me part with my power – I clung onto it like a Viking lord to his riches as he sailed in death into Valhalla.
‘Power is my ill used gift
My bane, my fear, my curse
Away into insanity I drift
Weaker I get, power is worse’
My wife was the one to mention it first. “You’ve changed” she cried, “You’re not the man I married!” When she walked out I was numb but not saddened, I was too good for her anyway. I hated her and the guy who was nailing her behind my back. She thought I didn’t know, but when I found a pair of guy’s pants in my bathroom it was obvious. I didn’t confront her about it; I just began urinating in her grapefruit juice every morning before she got up. When that hairy baboon of a man kissed her he was ingesting some of my pee – that was enough to keep me smiling.
‘Men are the inferior species
Too reliant on womankind
…’
I quit my job soon after she left. It wasn’t good enough for me. Sure, I was am director of a big company that dealt with advertising or something, I never really knew exactly what they did, but I wanted to do a job that I good enough for me. I considered growing a square moustache and marching on Poland but this plan fell through when I began to spiral into debt. First they took my things as payments, my widescreen tv, my laptop, my Swedish furniture – and then they took my house.
The streets showed me the reality. I wasn’t a king, a bishop or even a knight but a pawn on the chessboard of life. I was another insignificant digit whose only purpose in life is to pay tax. I had no debt to society and society had no debt to be. I was nothing more than I figure on a spreadsheet in some government office. Losing my sense of power was like losing a limb. I felt incomplete, disjoined and deficient. I couldn’t assert my dictatorial propaganda into my notepad anymore. I was no better than anyone else. I simply was.
‘Without reason or motive I continue to write
Once all I was, but now all I possess
Without power or control, there’s no wrong or right
Fading to black, it over. Meaningless’
‘A society without a king will surely fall
Understand the inane failure of democracy
Tell your servants, tell them all
“Your righteous lord is me”’
I had taken to writing little poems to express the superiority I felt. I knew I was better than the faceless drones in suits I saw every day; the same slicked-back-hair clones in their navy and black suits with pastel coloured ties. I didn’t flock around the water cooler on a morning to discuss last night’s oh-so-important sports event – I sat in my office and peered down from my spectacular 34th floor view at the city bustling below me. I was above them all, each and every one of them. From up here they looked like ants, and each one of them meant no more to me than the putrid insects I likened them to.
‘The leeches of society walk
One thousand feet below
At the water cooler talk
Petty conversations flow’
I knew I was wavering into insanity, but I couldn’t help myself. Did you ever wonder why billionaires grow to be recluses and wander around their mansions in their dressing gown muttering nonsense? It’s the feeling of empowerment – it gets to you. Suddenly nobody and nothing are good enough for you and you strive for a higher plane of being. You know you can end the insanity by giving up the power – but it is like asking an infant to part with it’s favourite stuffed toy – nothing on this Earth could make me part with my power – I clung onto it like a Viking lord to his riches as he sailed in death into Valhalla.
‘Power is my ill used gift
My bane, my fear, my curse
Away into insanity I drift
Weaker I get, power is worse’
My wife was the one to mention it first. “You’ve changed” she cried, “You’re not the man I married!” When she walked out I was numb but not saddened, I was too good for her anyway. I hated her and the guy who was nailing her behind my back. She thought I didn’t know, but when I found a pair of guy’s pants in my bathroom it was obvious. I didn’t confront her about it; I just began urinating in her grapefruit juice every morning before she got up. When that hairy baboon of a man kissed her he was ingesting some of my pee – that was enough to keep me smiling.
‘Men are the inferior species
Too reliant on womankind
…’
I quit my job soon after she left. It wasn’t good enough for me. Sure, I was am director of a big company that dealt with advertising or something, I never really knew exactly what they did, but I wanted to do a job that I good enough for me. I considered growing a square moustache and marching on Poland but this plan fell through when I began to spiral into debt. First they took my things as payments, my widescreen tv, my laptop, my Swedish furniture – and then they took my house.
The streets showed me the reality. I wasn’t a king, a bishop or even a knight but a pawn on the chessboard of life. I was another insignificant digit whose only purpose in life is to pay tax. I had no debt to society and society had no debt to be. I was nothing more than I figure on a spreadsheet in some government office. Losing my sense of power was like losing a limb. I felt incomplete, disjoined and deficient. I couldn’t assert my dictatorial propaganda into my notepad anymore. I was no better than anyone else. I simply was.
‘Without reason or motive I continue to write
Once all I was, but now all I possess
Without power or control, there’s no wrong or right
Fading to black, it over. Meaningless’
Nice - some really thought provoking lines in there, and the little rhyming lines in between the sections gave it a sense of fluency and motion. Thumbs up, don't know why I didn't see it last time. Sorry.
Nice to get comments....
Translucent is my feeling of empathy when it all boils down to it. Mercy is devoid of forging even the slightest amiable relationship with my frontal lobes, leaving me incapable of enacting even the crudest, most primitive gesture of kindness. My razorblade rationale never achieved much amongst colleagues or peers; but the satisfaction of self-empowerment was too enriching for me to simply cast it aside. I felt like a God amongst men, a twenty first century Jesus with selfish intentions. There would be no crown of thorns for me, only the crown of my royal prejudice against society. There would be no crucifix for me to be nailed to, only the painful procrastinated pain of realising what I had become; there was no Judas Iscariot to betray me, only my own wife.
‘A society without a king will surely fall
Understand the inane failure of democracy
Tell your servants, tell them all
“Your righteous lord is me”’
I had taken to writing little poems to express the superiority I felt. I knew I was better than the faceless drones in suits I saw every day; the same slicked-back-hair clones in their navy and black suits with pastel coloured ties. I didn’t flock around the water cooler on a morning to discuss last night’s oh-so-important sports event – I sat in my office and peered down from my spectacular 34th floor view at the city bustling below me. I was above them all, each and every one of them. From up here they looked like ants, and each one of them meant no more to me than the putrid insects I likened them to.
‘The leeches of society walk
One thousand feet below
At the water cooler talk
Petty conversations flow’
I knew I was wavering into insanity, but I couldn’t help myself. Did you ever wonder why billionaires grow to be recluses and wander around their mansions in their dressing gown muttering nonsense? It’s the feeling of empowerment – it gets to you. Suddenly nobody and nothing are good enough for you and you strive for a higher plane of being. You know you can end the insanity by giving up the power – but it is like asking an infant to part with it’s favourite stuffed toy – nothing on this Earth could make me part with my power – I clung onto it like a Viking lord to his riches as he sailed in death into Valhalla.
‘Power is my ill used gift
My bane, my fear, my curse
Away into insanity I drift
Weaker I get, power is worse’
My wife was the one to mention it first. “You’ve changed” she cried, “You’re not the man I married!” When she walked out I was numb but not saddened, I was too good for her anyway. I hated her and the guy who was nailing her behind my back. She thought I didn’t know, but when I found a pair of guy’s pants in my bathroom it was obvious. I didn’t confront her about it; I just began urinating in her grapefruit juice every morning before she got up. When that hairy baboon of a man kissed her he was ingesting some of my pee – that was enough to keep me smiling.
‘Men are the inferior species
Too reliant on womankind
…’
I quit my job soon after she left. It wasn’t good enough for me. Sure, I was am director of a big company that dealt with advertising or something, I never really knew exactly what they did, but I wanted to do a job that I good enough for me. I considered growing a square moustache and marching on Poland but this plan fell through when I began to spiral into debt. First they took my things as payments, my widescreen tv, my laptop, my Swedish furniture – and then they took my house.
The streets showed me the reality. I wasn’t a king, a bishop or even a knight but a pawn on the chessboard of life. I was another insignificant digit whose only purpose in life is to pay tax. I had no debt to society and society had no debt to be. I was nothing more than I figure on a spreadsheet in some government office. Losing my sense of power was like losing a limb. I felt incomplete, disjoined and deficient. I couldn’t assert my dictatorial propaganda into my notepad anymore. I was no better than anyone else. I simply was.
‘Without reason or motive I continue to write
Once all I was, but now all I possess
Without power or control, there’s no wrong or right
Fading to black, it over. Meaningless’
‘A society without a king will surely fall
Understand the inane failure of democracy
Tell your servants, tell them all
“Your righteous lord is me”’
I had taken to writing little poems to express the superiority I felt. I knew I was better than the faceless drones in suits I saw every day; the same slicked-back-hair clones in their navy and black suits with pastel coloured ties. I didn’t flock around the water cooler on a morning to discuss last night’s oh-so-important sports event – I sat in my office and peered down from my spectacular 34th floor view at the city bustling below me. I was above them all, each and every one of them. From up here they looked like ants, and each one of them meant no more to me than the putrid insects I likened them to.
‘The leeches of society walk
One thousand feet below
At the water cooler talk
Petty conversations flow’
I knew I was wavering into insanity, but I couldn’t help myself. Did you ever wonder why billionaires grow to be recluses and wander around their mansions in their dressing gown muttering nonsense? It’s the feeling of empowerment – it gets to you. Suddenly nobody and nothing are good enough for you and you strive for a higher plane of being. You know you can end the insanity by giving up the power – but it is like asking an infant to part with it’s favourite stuffed toy – nothing on this Earth could make me part with my power – I clung onto it like a Viking lord to his riches as he sailed in death into Valhalla.
‘Power is my ill used gift
My bane, my fear, my curse
Away into insanity I drift
Weaker I get, power is worse’
My wife was the one to mention it first. “You’ve changed” she cried, “You’re not the man I married!” When she walked out I was numb but not saddened, I was too good for her anyway. I hated her and the guy who was nailing her behind my back. She thought I didn’t know, but when I found a pair of guy’s pants in my bathroom it was obvious. I didn’t confront her about it; I just began urinating in her grapefruit juice every morning before she got up. When that hairy baboon of a man kissed her he was ingesting some of my pee – that was enough to keep me smiling.
‘Men are the inferior species
Too reliant on womankind
…’
I quit my job soon after she left. It wasn’t good enough for me. Sure, I was am director of a big company that dealt with advertising or something, I never really knew exactly what they did, but I wanted to do a job that I good enough for me. I considered growing a square moustache and marching on Poland but this plan fell through when I began to spiral into debt. First they took my things as payments, my widescreen tv, my laptop, my Swedish furniture – and then they took my house.
The streets showed me the reality. I wasn’t a king, a bishop or even a knight but a pawn on the chessboard of life. I was another insignificant digit whose only purpose in life is to pay tax. I had no debt to society and society had no debt to be. I was nothing more than I figure on a spreadsheet in some government office. Losing my sense of power was like losing a limb. I felt incomplete, disjoined and deficient. I couldn’t assert my dictatorial propaganda into my notepad anymore. I was no better than anyone else. I simply was.
‘Without reason or motive I continue to write
Once all I was, but now all I possess
Without power or control, there’s no wrong or right
Fading to black, it over. Meaningless’