Monday, June 22, 2009

Electronic Colosseum

Listen to the pulse of the world, listen.

We collectively bow before idols, or recline, however the case may be.

Obfuscating our thoughts with the drone of the gods, drone on gods, drone on.

For we have forgotten what used to be,

Men standing firm, feet planted in the earth, their muscles rippling with exertion.

Women, capable women, given to thought and reflection, peaceable ways.

Builders of society, they knew God,

out in the elements, they knew who they were.

Dignity, goodness, uprightness, upheld.

What stands for societies gods now?

The obliteration of others, laugh at the idiots.

The degradation of all, for nothing is sacred.

How quickly do we fall?

Crowds gather, vast crowds

climb high to your seat,

sweat trickles down your face in the heat.

Collective excitement as the gates are lifted,

a gasp as the lion is released.

Then the slave standing,

ebony shining in the sun.

A battle to the death,

and who questions why this is?

Man against beast, man against man


Battles are still fought before masses

battles for dignity, battles for sanity.

How entertaining, to see people fail.

Are we all mad?

The Romans are still alive...


  1. Your last line says it all. the more things change the more... beautifully expressed. ~rick

  2. Interesting thought Strawberry Girl.
    enjoyed the read.

  3. If you haven't pursued getting more formally published, please do. For you have been given something to say that should be heard by as many as possible.

  4. Stay the same Rick? Yes certainly

    Thank you as always Yvonne

    Very flattered by your sentiments FishHawk. Still trying to figure out exactly what I'm trying to say though (rueful grin).

  5. I took a while to figure this out cause me mind is pre-occupied with... stuff!

    This was a great read and very interesting! Keep writing!!!

  6. That's OK Ajay, no worries. Thanks for the encouragement. ;D

  7. Bewildered and not sure where our feet are planted or why. The world seems so barbaric at times. Sometimes we have to live depleted in the well for too, too long before we discern ourselves and life again. Writing seems to be a lifeline, even when we think we don't know what we're saying.