Wednesday, March 28, 2012

The Fourth Generation

Motivate me thou foul fiend of hells being,

Or have you the strength to keep me here?

Have you no power to continue on

In this game of chance, fortune's bitter fame?

Did I not give all I had to overthrow

Who I am inside, did I not lose all

That I was for the sake of becoming

Someone else? Yet you cannot deliver!

For though hells message of cunning deceit

Is strong, attractive, grasps you by your own

Defenses so as to use avarice

Against piety, it fail's in it's

Abysmal quest for lacking proper ID!

The good that this did for me, for I, like

An amateur failed to prompt credentials,

And have so rued my mistake by my life.

A frame does hold a picture, tis true, but

How does a picture hold a frame? There

Is such logic that the devil uses,

Causes us confusion, he so abuses

Our intellect that we become quite numb

With information; now that we have it

We are paralyzed to act for having

Too much or too little of the thing. Act

Upon your deepest desires he says,

Bask in the light of your own intent and

See how great you're light shines forth from this place!

Such a thought leads one to dreaded disgrace,

For I have given in to it's demand,

Been made wanton by dreams unmet, and so

Despairing in what I cannot nor will

Not do, I sit in silence without a

Clue as to what might be possible, save

For the words that I hear over again

and again, they that hound me to repent

Of my deception and so leave dusty

Jack and his fiddle here in Georgia.

Now what's for it, what shall I do? Is there

Anyone that can set me on the path

That I desire? Yet what do I find

Worthy of interest, what beckons to my

Craving soul that could keep me for but one

Instant happy, as the thought of true love

That sets upon every man when alone.

Thus for want of fame and glory have I

Spent my motivation on cheap tricks, and

So rued the day when I was led astray.

Now the heavens above reek of storm's foul,

Their intent is to drive me away where

I shall find myself to weak to walk, to sad

To sing, to hungry to work, to thirsty

To speak out even a single greeting.

So shall I who lacked motivation now

Wander the world. As Cain slaying Able

Have I acted, or Lady Macbeth, all

Determined to murder for her fill. This

Is my family legacy and curse; to

Act the part of the first, not the last; for

Ever in want of what I had, what's past.

Family Curse (C) Luke Bennette

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