The Inaudible Frequency (of a little man's thoughts)

This slave-like mentality,

quite simply the reality of our

warlike principalities


whose brazen nationality is

worn thinly by brutality

fledged from personalities

borne into this cursed generation


forged from hundred years

of bloody sweat and salty tears

the salinity of repression

which tastes so very sweet to those 

who care not to care

about stepping on the little man's toes


the little man who,

with the inaudible frequency 

of a flea, or a fly, 

or some other succubi

was sent from God fearing farthings

of a world better yet left untouched


too foreign is the concept

of his gently whispered thought

to the minds and mouths

of men doing all too much

never accomplishing enough 


busy hands, and idle minds

embody the rabid raucous

of a rabble-rouser's pledge 


of men who assail

the illogical, the unfathomable, the indefinite 

like it all means less than nothing

in the greater schemas of life


squelched -- the vocality

that once bellowed bright

for reasons not yet condemned

to the resting place of pieces

and the silent slaughtering of more vivid imaginings


Yes, now too only ashes remain

and the bitter din of 

half-hearted men, who 

will do just as they're told, 

without question 


even when it costs them

a life, or a limb,

or maybe two of their own 


men who swooned over the simplicities

afforded by the elysium of great fortunes,

amassed from ideas which can swallow a man whole

and assimilate their fortitude

for the greater good of all


is this lie worth your life?

whispered the little man,

who knew much better than

to believe just what he was told


and still he beckons on, 

with slightly broken song

a dissonance perfumed solely by

one who has since been freed..


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