Poetry / Zion Autopilot

Sounds clashing the planes crashing, startling my slumbering eyes from sleep. The crowd thrashing the oppressor laughing as we are violently abused and beat. These are the times in which I live, where heaven’s fallen angles commit much sin, buried in the hills of Mount Zion, the creatures toil and fight without end. Merely, Merely I say unto you, thou that drinketh from this cup shall never again thirst, thirst for your own thoughts and free verse, for that shall be considered cursed. You will have no feelings, right down to the bone. Numb as a bumble bee in blankets of snow. Turn on your autopilot its time for lift off, as you’re lead into disgrace without caring, knowledge or distrust. Let the laughter ring from ear to ear, as you march with weapons raised; when will you see, open your eyes, for it you the oppressor that lives inside, with eyes of fire and tongue of broken glass, do you oppress us with your tyrants laugh, and death does follow your every step, every step you take towards Mount Zion.

Written by: C.R. Staley 2008

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Reviews

April 30, 2008

lacreo

No. of Reviews	Overall Quality	Comment Followup
0	92.3% (26 votes)	100.0%

personal info reviewer stats

Age	Gender	Location	Last Login
28	M	Brooklyn, NY	May 08

lacreo reviewed Version 1 - Read 100% of the Item

Numb as a bumble bee in blankets of snow.

Great line!

In fact the entire piece is filled with great lines.
I really don’t have much to say in terms of constructive criticism, however, perhaps you should try opening it up a bit more by placing it in a paragraph form.