#FireWorksProse
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pandemicatheseries.com
Artificial Elitist Intellectual Prison
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A #FireWorksProse by #GeoKas
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Artificial Elitist Intellectual Prison (by Geo Kas) You once claimed to be an open person, But I can’t take your word for it. Take it or leave it, Verify what you can, If you can… The door’s labeled Welcome— but look, don’t touch the handle. But your secrets and lies make you hard to believe, An Artificial Elitist Intellectual Prison, Where doubt is treated as a deficit: A journey into madness That’s just called being a friend, Laughing over the static, You shrug it off in your pique, But your “truths” are like a heartlight—reaching blind. Warm enough to lure me in—I drown in it. You once claimed to be an open person. You just can’t stand some things (too bad). You say Taylor Swift’s music annoys you, You shut down the broadcast, Never considering you’ve trained yourself not to listen. Perspective pulls us further and further apart. Our openness is nothing more than a passive-aggressive epiphany, Our closeness is nothing less than an Artificial Elitist Intellectual Prison. We don’t get closer—we reorganize the distance.
January 2, 2026 at 9:34 PM
pandemicatheseries.com
Besides digital art, mild animation, voicework, light singing, music engineering/production, universe-building, video game development & a bunch of other stuff "unofficially" (4 now), I write extremely tepid poetry in a self-made style I dubbed #FireWorksProse!
🥳Happy New Year!
~Geo
#poetrycommunity
Where Holy hell & all the Great Rivers of Hope Collide (By Geo Kas) I'm not a sex symbol I'm not a rolling stone I'll never be a President I'll never sit on a Throne All things pass their way, as will I, I know Yellow streaks on white snow Black lines drawn in the sand Green hearts beating with opaque eyes & red faces Blue skies over grey moods overcast by righteous pride People possessed by demons of the silences They masquerade as the Joyous & Divine They hold their noses closed with their tiny hands Their vision too weak to see the light outlining their own shadows Where Holy hell & all the Great Rivers of Hope collide There's a city on a hill that's burning It shines! And the people who live there are in vogue with a radiant outer fire hmm, well maybe I'll come back to that last part...right now I'm a little tired...
December 26, 2024 at 12:07 AM