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As the world’s 24/7 digital profusion continues its relentless bombardment of every and anything happening, the Midnight Sun is becoming perpetual, offering no where to hide, unless from within where we can listen to that small voice, still alive.
Tomorrow's Madness Becoming
As darkest nights
As still air
begins to suffocate
As no light
offers blinded foresight
We embrace our inner betrayal
We convince ourselves
so much is insane
we are left but to crane our necks
look once again
over our shoulder
So says the child watching from a distance
the one we left behind
the one gripping tight to Innocent's hand
hoping another lost dream
is not tomorrow's madness becoming
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|Reviewed by Diana Legun (Reader)
|Unique definition of rationalization: "We embrace our inner betrayal." This image you created of the innocent child -- "what happened?"/So says the child watching from a distance" -- is wide-eyed and effectively punctuates this writing. I like much about your language style, and I greatly appreciate the order in which you place your words, often transposed, like the Master Yoda. "Tomorrow's Madness Becoming" ~~ Diana|
|Reviewed by John Flanagan
|that small voice is always there and cannot
be shaken, it may be the only redemption but
we must act on its prod...actually DO something..
we're almost overwhelmed, so enough already
fight on, Odin, i'll try and fight alongside
|Reviewed by RWE SAYS BYE
|...I enjoy the ominous tone throughout, and find the ambivalence inherent in the elliptical conclusion refreshingly cryptic... there is this sense that the narrator is some type of seer and that the final phrase "tomorrow's madness becoming" is but a precursor of some imminent curse... or is it (as the ambiguity suggests) really an inherently beautiful state of being? Or is it all a lost dream?
The contrasts of innocence and experience seems somehow tinged by a cynicism which threatens to over-ride rational thought, but otherwise this is a sound censure of all that is, including the so-called absence of light... bleak oversight, indeed.
|Reviewed by Morgan Merriweather
|there may not be anything pretty about tomorrow if we keep ruining today.|
|Reviewed by Jerry Bolton
|We might live through it, but at what fucking cost, Ron.|
|Reviewed by Ronald Hull
|Every generation views the next as going mad. Somehow, we live through it.
|Reviewed by Kate Clifford
|Thought provoking write :-)|