I wrote this after attending a night at the music festival known as Camp Bisco in Upstate, NY:
guilt, tarnished hope, shock & awe, overpriced monotony, synthetic vibrations, pit of despair.
knee-deep mud, ashes, plastic forks, feces, lost expectations, spectacle, where is humanity?
shanty-town, no real lyrics, dirty feet and blank expressions, wide eyed,
warm beer, spoiled meats, wegmans potato salad, not really surprised at all.
sullen faces, shared bitterness, nothing to fight for, confused thoughts reverberating,
even the countryside is tainted for me now.
not sure if its the single incidence or a composite map of disturbing prophecy, worried for my generation, the generation of too many causes and none worth fighting for, won out by corrupt politicians and instant news, plastic water bottles, chemcial leeching, hormones and process, war machine and concealed truths, identity crisis, old mold not working.
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