Exit Sandman
Anguish in the land of never,
The monster’s cords—too tight.
Riding on a bed of fear,
Full of doubt, full of fright.
What is futile?
Too hard, too dark
To struggle, to fight;
These bonds won’t sever.
The pain, to suffer—seems forever here,
Hiding in the endless night.
Dark hollow glass, set in black plastic,
Light from the inside, as from some mystic,
High pitch of noise, screaming unheard.
Round of applause, for the blue man in the red cape?
(It all seems so innocent.)
We’ve formed another prison, from which to escape,
Filled with the violence, the gossip, the rape.
What is darkness?
See the man dressed in sand,
Take his hand, feel the sting
Of the snake underneath.
Leave the land of the living,
Embrace eternal death,
Suffer the torments.
Endure the wrath,
Never to regain breath;
Living, yet dying, in the pit of Sandman.
Are we here? Are we not?
Are we sweetly seated?
Gazing at the blot.
No one to guide us,
Forgetting to find why.
Just jump on the band bus,
Don’t let us see you cry.
Leaving all tradition,
Not knowing the truth;
Lack of knowledge, it haunts us,
The apathy of the past—see it bear fruit.
Modern-day gladiators dancing on screen,
Senseless bloodbaths, angry blasphemous cries:
Moderate behaviour? Unheard and unseen.
Wretched characters, locked in mortal combat.
What are we doing to those sweet eyes?
The youthful, they watch us,
They size up our shape.
Maybe not innocent,
Yet seeming free from the chains.
Where are the wise?
To show them the Word—
That is the key.
Not cartoons of rebels,
And brazen empty lies
Entering the psyche, deceiving the soul.
They yearn for plastic fame, never to be whole.
Lacking commitment, no sense of direction.
Living for the rush, they’re losing control.
Run by their feelings—spontaneous emotion.
Forsaking true reason.
Leaping into the unknown,
Continued forever, it might seem;
Though, wisdom would not agree.
Wisdom, where is she?
Intent to “live well” in society’s faking,
Seeming content, shell of their own making;
Each one, a prisoner of self-made apathy.
Glass neon universe, never sure about reality,
Cities of the virtual,
Individuals, not a one.
Gazing at the “sea of knowledge”—
Flickering lights, blinking on …
Deception of Sandman,
So often he seems nice.
We run with his schemes
Like a million empty mice.
So white on the outside,
Yet grey in between.
Who knows what’s upstream?
What is Light?
Know the Man, dressed as Lamb,
See the sword underneath.
Flee His wrath,
Embrace His cross;
Ever to be free.