{"id":102008,"date":"2021-06-27T06:39:49","date_gmt":"2021-06-27T10:39:49","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=102008"},"modified":"2021-06-27T06:42:35","modified_gmt":"2021-06-27T10:42:35","slug":"a-poem-to-wake-myself-up-hour-22","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2021\/06\/a-poem-to-wake-myself-up-hour-22\/","title":{"rendered":"A Poem to Wake Myself Up (Hour 22)"},"content":{"rendered":"<pre><span style=\"font-weight: 400\">A swelling reservoir of insignificant bustling, \r\nthe roaring byproduct of crowded masses, \r\nshapeless faces, eyes that count lights, \r\neyes and mouths speaking, so many talking, \r\nbreathing, wasting themselves all over the surface.<\/span>\r\n\r\n<span style=\"font-weight: 400\">Death by automobile, \r\ngasping like malfunctioning robotic fish, \r\nmouth agape in the thin hot air. \r\nBloody divers unleashed from his abdomen.<\/span>\r\n\r\n<span style=\"font-weight: 400\">Death by diet, by pills, \r\nby isolation in a crowd of unconnected persons. \r\nMasks and decadence. \r\nImages paraded above life dying within. \r\nUnaware of the slipping veil, \r\ntoo consumed to feel the soul's departing \r\nbit by horrible bit.<\/span>\r\n\r\n<span style=\"font-weight: 400\">Swathes and swathes of people. \r\nNames and places, \r\nbut the crowd is nameless, \r\nall people taking up space, \r\nwhat disconnect has led us here? \r\nWhat disenchantment eats at my own heart?<\/span>\r\n\r\n<span style=\"font-weight: 400\">The rush to sell and buy. \r\n\r\nThriving measured by consumerism. \r\nThe chase and competition all around. \r\nTo live and die for turning that great wheel. \r\nAll standing on the backs of some, \r\nto lick the boots of others. \r\nNo ones back is weightless. \r\nNo ones tongue is clean.<\/span>\r\n\r\n<span style=\"font-weight: 400\">We deserve our cancers. \r\nWe deserve our failing hearts. \r\nWe deserve the strangualating cholesterol, \r\nchemical sterility. But our children dont.<\/span>\r\n\r\n<span style=\"font-weight: 400\">The children deserve something better.<\/span><\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>A swelling reservoir of insignificant bustling, the roaring byproduct of crowded masses, shapeless faces, eyes that count lights, eyes and mouths speaking, so many talking, breathing, wasting themselves all over the surface. Death by automobile, gasping like malfunctioning robotic fish, mouth agape in the thin&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":965,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-102008","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/102008","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/965"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=102008"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/102008\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":102071,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/102008\/revisions\/102071"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=102008"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=102008"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=102008"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}