Nebraska

The embodiment of humanity

Sits with dejected hands upon his knees.

He remembers ev’ry painful detail

Of each enterprise in which he has failed,

Recalls each and ev’ry single mistake,

Thinks of the desolation in his wake.

He begins to muse on his vengeful ways,

Of extents he’d go, prices he would pay

(He thinks tonight of Atlantic City,

And of girls with their hair done up pretty).

The world saunters by outside his window,

He watches them, staring at those below.

Humanity cannot grasp any truths,

Nor has he foundation for any muse.

(His thoughts are not those of the mass divine,

‘Stead follows thoughts of Johnny 99).

No, humanity must focus. He must

Grip his mind onto what is right, and just.

Humanity stands, hands off of his knees,

But balance falls, and he can barely see.

This human is bleeding hard from his head,

“It’s only his own fault” is what they’ve said.

Those patrolling humanity’s highway

Have nothing to say, no wisdom to play;

These dead troopers work only for their life,

For exactly nothing, warring with strife.

The human highway holds only old cars,

Owned by “I don’t give a fuck about stars.”

This road is Open All Night, off’ring routes

To the lost, to the dead, those the screams mute.

The embodiment of humanity

Sits with dejected hands upon his knees.

Again, the human stands, steady this time.

Humanity stands by his father’s crimes,

Building his house on ground gained unfairly,

Claiming land father gained “in the old way.”

Humanity drags himself to the end

Of the world, where he can only pretend,

To smile-and-sing-and-smile-and-dance-and-smile,

To cover all the old ground, and all the while,

Steadily losing the place he was born;

At the end of the world, hearts will be torn:

“What have you creatures done to deserve life?”

Is what the softened silence says, “Reply!”

“What has become, I cannot justify,

And I shall not speak for humanity.”

“Of the crimes committed, you shall explain

How they came to be, feeling naught but shame.”

“We have no shame, no crimes we’ve committed,

No longer need the deity’s city.”

At the end of the world, the silence laughs,

Endless love facing relentless attacks.

Maybe there’s naught at the end of the world:

Maybe what’s worthless is all that we’ve learned.

Perhaps we’ll never find out where to go,

We can only hope we don’t want to know.

The embodiment of humanity

Sits with dejected hands upon his knees.

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About DickensianJack

Born in Wolverhampton in November '93, moved to Huddersfield in September 2012. Studying at the University of Huddersfield. In love with the town - simple as that. As for the blog itself, I've been doing bits and pieces of writing (with varying quality) for a few years. A friend suggested I start a blog to share my work. Most of the stuff on here is poems, but there's other work interspersed on the page. Feel free to leave any comments on my work. Twitter: @DickensianJack (Jack Dickens) Facebook: www.facebook.com/dickensianjack Cheers, enjoy.
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