TheGarbageMen
07-24-2012, 10:37 AM
Inspirational Tales of the Tykes:
Imagination
When walking through the grocery store
upon the colored tiles,
You imagine you’re on lava,
skipping across rock isles.
Arriving in your shopping cart,
a runaway boxcar,
You traverse the treacherous traps
like an action superstar.
And then at home, a stick in hand,
your legendary sword,
You’re in beast-infested jungles
and fighting them in hordes.
You hop in your hot air balloon
and soar into the sky;
It turns into a rocket ship,
‘cause you’re an astro-spy.
Imagination’s what you use
to simply get away
From real life’s stark despondency,
mundane, the ev’ry-day.
It’s how you find those things in life
that never could be real.
It’s how you find that sense of bliss
that some may never feel.
When you get a little older,
your hormones go awry;
Imagine that the girl you like
just smiled when you walked by.
Imagine that you’ll fall in love,
together ‘til the end.
She’ll be your first and only love,
your best and only friend.
You’ll pretend the drugs you’re taking
do not destroy your health;
You’ll pretend your education
will help you garner wealth.
Your lovers are all faithful, and
they always tell the truth.
Your friends would not break faith with you
or be at all uncouth.
Imagination’s what you use
to tell yourself such lies,
To swallow the subsistence of
those things that you despise.
It’s how you make it through each day
and keep your sanity.
It’s how you keep a grip upon
what you choose to believe.
As you’re aging faster still, and
your time is running out,
You’ll likely start to wonder what
your life was all about.
You’ll tell yourself it was inspired,
you made a great impact.
You always acted morally,
made up for what you lacked.
You’ll tell yourself your bank accounts
will grow again next week.
Your job will turn around some day,
success will start to peak.
Your boss will see he’s been a jerk,
coworkers will awake.
Your dead-end life will turn around;
at last you’ll catch a break.
Imagination’s what you use
to keep your head up high
If real life’s bleak futility
may cause you to ask, “Why?”
You’ll use it ‘til your dying breath,
alone upon your bed:
Imagine some place better off
you’ll go to when you’re dead.
Imagination
When walking through the grocery store
upon the colored tiles,
You imagine you’re on lava,
skipping across rock isles.
Arriving in your shopping cart,
a runaway boxcar,
You traverse the treacherous traps
like an action superstar.
And then at home, a stick in hand,
your legendary sword,
You’re in beast-infested jungles
and fighting them in hordes.
You hop in your hot air balloon
and soar into the sky;
It turns into a rocket ship,
‘cause you’re an astro-spy.
Imagination’s what you use
to simply get away
From real life’s stark despondency,
mundane, the ev’ry-day.
It’s how you find those things in life
that never could be real.
It’s how you find that sense of bliss
that some may never feel.
When you get a little older,
your hormones go awry;
Imagine that the girl you like
just smiled when you walked by.
Imagine that you’ll fall in love,
together ‘til the end.
She’ll be your first and only love,
your best and only friend.
You’ll pretend the drugs you’re taking
do not destroy your health;
You’ll pretend your education
will help you garner wealth.
Your lovers are all faithful, and
they always tell the truth.
Your friends would not break faith with you
or be at all uncouth.
Imagination’s what you use
to tell yourself such lies,
To swallow the subsistence of
those things that you despise.
It’s how you make it through each day
and keep your sanity.
It’s how you keep a grip upon
what you choose to believe.
As you’re aging faster still, and
your time is running out,
You’ll likely start to wonder what
your life was all about.
You’ll tell yourself it was inspired,
you made a great impact.
You always acted morally,
made up for what you lacked.
You’ll tell yourself your bank accounts
will grow again next week.
Your job will turn around some day,
success will start to peak.
Your boss will see he’s been a jerk,
coworkers will awake.
Your dead-end life will turn around;
at last you’ll catch a break.
Imagination’s what you use
to keep your head up high
If real life’s bleak futility
may cause you to ask, “Why?”
You’ll use it ‘til your dying breath,
alone upon your bed:
Imagine some place better off
you’ll go to when you’re dead.