Brutal Honesty

It's more of the same, in a phase that's new
Bashing those mortals who can't buy a clue;
My pointed fingers are solution-filled
But this brutal honesty's not distilled.

I've been retro-fitted, and future-cast
Hope for what's coming, and dreams of the past
I'm smarter than the average cloned sheep
Mix with the masses, or I can go deep.

I've had brilliance blind-sided; sold for scrap
And solved dilemmas all over the map
I proved common sense is gone, and not missed
And saved the world before my first french kiss.

And I'm done with it now--this waste of time
I've seen what's wrong--let's rush to make what's mine;
I'll build it, shape it, and hide it from view
Underground, in the dark, that's what I'll do.

Like the kid who takes his ball and goes home
I'll create my castle; no need to roam;
With fine idols who'll trade worship with me
In a palace you sheep will never see.

W. C. Davis


Follow Up to the poem "Brutal Honesty": This poem was originally 2 "dead ends" from December, and some spontaneous scribble in the first week of 2004. This poem was real, live "work"; with the frustration and anguish that comes with real, live work. I even had to ask for help, 2wice, from my panel of experts to get this thing done. But I am SO glad that I did. This is one of the single best representations of me (if not THE best) ever; from "in your face" to "out of sight". Thank you very much, and goodnight.

Back to Homepage