A Poem about my Generation [most finished]

Call me an idealist but I don’t believe we’re as different as we seem to think we are.


A nation crippled to industrialise

and in dust realise

they lay waste to the wise

for an incompetent prize.

with hashtag teams

and screen dreams

impossible to achieve

just a glimmer on the page of a magazine

reflecting complexions

fantastic world of plastic

everything you want

to a backdrop of financial crashes

all we make are ripples

too shallow for splashes

and the price of life keeps rising

‘til all your world is what cash is

with hungry babies crying

politicians whining,

pointing fingers and lying

lost time in

chaotic minds from

straight lines

that led astray

kept in files by stupid lies

they’ve become reckless in ingestion

bending perception

with tenuous tendencies

for chemical remedies

slurping despair

and burping up cares

start slippin’ and sigh ‘screw the system’

light another two

find needless reasons to cleave and argue

all the things you knew they’d do

jaded generation lost youth

searching for proof of all they thought they knew

willing for change but afraid to say they’re scared

willing for change but deranged and unprepared

as the long arm of old law holding the demons at bay

begins to break

forgotten wars waged

always kept so distant

as hope begins to fade

the nagging voice gets insistent


I get we’re all different, yeah

but is it really worth all this?


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