Obsolete

The last thread in the fabric of life
is society.
The noisy, the brutal and
harsh,
sound, emotional and textured
is society's screaming throat.
There is very little it can pronounce.
The men of our generation have pledged
to crucify it.
And we are merely watching it happen.

In this act of human cruelty
I identify with them,
and what they followed,
and what they propagated.
I beg your forgiveness.
Surely there must be a mistake
I am not,
in any way
to be blamed for
your laughter
which is now obsolete.

Wait, there is so much confusion,
it seems their belief necessitates.
I do not comprehend.
It must be a walk of immigrants
that sees no end to pilgrimage.
I change,
I see apocalypse,
it has come knocking at the gates.
Let it in, you
ignorant, miserable fools,
your time is obsolete.

Thus society did connect these
free links to a human face
while I had pledged to define
what nothing and everything should come to mean.

It came to mean a human being,
time and time again.
For the poet
in interrogation
the thoughts all too intricate.

We hold remembrance
of an unjust battle.
Our minds are nothing but plagued.
I am standing in resistance
to all that is obsolete.
Think of reason!
My friend, it is age old
and so is rationale,
though an infant to society.
A fog seemingly to fade.
Must I keep my eyes high up?
I see peace and quiet
whitened around the silence.
To be is to conflict belief
what obsolete is to scrape away.