The Imaginary Line
An IdeaStream Poem
Come on! Let’s walk this imaginary line No snipers, no vipers, it’s clear of the mines. A positive war, where words are the bullets And an orange fat-cat puppet stands at the pulpit. It’s an old-world beginning, the start of a relic It’d be better, quite frankly, to take psychedelics, In the form of a serum, delivered direct, Into the bloodstream, so easy to inject! But you notice the line, it’s wavered and patched, The words firing off from the bruised and scratched, Who think the third door to the right is the one, You should take it, they say, have a party, some fun! But you know this is wrong, their words make no sense, The stage isn’t real, just a fake, a pretense. It’s of their own making, not something we need, A third-rate, rickety scene where they plead To the masses who stand, set in their ways, Absorbing sickly word-treacle to the end of their days. This isn’t you, you’re the strong, the brains-trust, The people who know independent thought is a must. None of these sweet sickly words of persuasion, Save all that shit for some other occasion, I’m getting off this imaginary line, I have better ways to spend my time.
~thanks for reading~
Inspired by Xavier Van Holde’s Poetry Salvage:
- imaginary
- serum
- delivered
- snipers
- third
- world
- war
- beginning
- stage
- set
Lisa writes poetry and other things from her home in Finland. You can check out what she’s up to via Northern Notes.