On Shadows and Realities

Ah, the exquisite pedantry of modern America.
Content to color within the lines,
daring only to deviate when acceptable substitutions
          become available,
never to jump if it isn't written,
under the proper guiding eye researched and reported,
confirmed and, tsk, okeydoked.

Our musty old volumes stamped and sealed
vaulted in tint, ne'er revised.

Like vampires from aslumber sucking vitality
youth and dance
envisioning Eden come around, a second go
after all is said and none
but, ah, cascading utopian dreams
are just that.

Deliver us from the rigid
from the world of iron and will,
of uncorruptable nothing
and take a lap,
breathe and succumb
to the talent of the everyman.

Shatter the walls, reinforce the windows,
open a door and let the sun shine in,
release yourself from the confines of your skin
and scream at your borders.

Believe the hype, do something about it
and grease the gears, spin the wheel,
choose a fate that's scripted
or mold a new legacy beyond the legends,

Show the pedants who they are
and tuck them into their beds to sleep with aid
        of their cookie cutter lives.
Ah, like so many files of gingerbread men with
        their heads bitten off.