Happy Little Chill Pill

Listen to Happy Little Chill Pill by Richard Charles Stevens

Listen to Dangerous Dreams Instrumental by LeBrock

So much anger and rage
So much judgement and shame
Way too hateful a place
For pure love to remain
Is it any wonder
We are doubled up in pain
Could it be
We doth protest too much
And thus grow out of touch
With what it is we’re truly up against

So much to begrudge
As we trudge through our mazes
Feeling hemmed in
And left pending for ages
Waiting for epiphany
To dawn new age of chivalry
Giddy from the turn of burning pages

Hurting for the answers
To divert recurring phases
Questioning the certainty of urgency to change things
Taking head count nervously with no one to explain things
Colder when we should be getting warmer

Painted into corners
Framed in such a way as to accentuate the vacancy of space to breathe between the latent squeeze of borders
Elevator
Out of order
Only stairwell left
To fare well dressed in gown
Weighed down by mortar
Drowning in our own rainwater

All to play for
Less to stay for
Thoughts on course to further falter
Fraught with worry
Guilt
Remorse
Each drop spilled decays the altar
Could it be
Our need to seethe
Relates to legislative order
Could it be
We’re headed for that fall

Would it be obscene
To bid reprieve
To leave of willing
Live and breathe
Less dithering
For giving in’s for wimps
Submissive gimps
Chimps
Chumps
And frumps
In dirty linen
Winning isn’t everything
As sinning isn’t strictly aimed at losers
Some of us are beggars
Others better placed as choosers
Use us up and wear us out
We’ll still find stuff to care about
More than enough to share about
Once we retouch our whereabouts

Whatever doubts we have and hold
Are ours alone to harbour
Every demon scheming
Seen in glow of candelabra
Coming soon
The fight to light the way to going farther
Go hard
Go home
And when it feels you’re all alone
Go harder

So much anger and rage
So much judgement and shame
Way too hateful a place
For pure love to remain
Is it any wonder
We are doubled up in pain
Could it be
We doth protest too much
And thus grow out of touch
With what it is we’re truly up against

Whatever doubts we have and hold
Are ours alone to harbour
Every demon scheming
Seen in glow of candelabra
Coming soon
The fight to light the way to going farther
Go hard
Go home
And when it feels you’re all alone
Go harder

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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