The World Is Slipping Under My Legs – A Poem

I wrote this poem when I was around 17 years old. It was a poor attempt at poetry, and I have since lost all ability to write poetry or fiction. This poem was in part inspired by my frustration with religion, regressive ideologies and superstition.

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The world is spinning fast; I’ve begun to lose control,
Hanging onto the axis of life, like the earth from the North to the South Pole,
A labyrinth of possibilities, of colours and sounds,
A river of shapes and objects; squares, ovals and rounds,

Rebellions and revolutions; the world has begun its descent.
Rising of the Crosses, Swastikas and the Holy Crescent,
Storms and fury, being made to endure then all,
Finally having to heed to Mother Nature’s call.

Virtue has lost significance; roses have lost their meaning,
Birds are oblivious to flight; the Sun has ceased its beaming.
Unable to walk the line created by his greatest creation,
Words and voices, haunting my mind; getting lost in translation.

Living the life of vultures; doing the thing of the mockingbird,
Ignoring the cries of indigence and grief that were heard,
Being held hostage to the fences between nations,
Not being the migratory bird as is the regulation.

Being the puppets of the masters strings,
Fear and insecurity as seen on the feeble rings.
My mind spinning like I’ve had a thousand pegs,
The world is slipping under my legs.