Breakers
Breakers
Conformity and tradition of the same family
Browns and yellows, both matched together
Blues and grays living in another spectrum
Colors accustomed to their separate blending
Years and years of meticulous conformity
As rebellion bows to rules and regulations
Uprisings are sharks with no teeth
A swimming with no water
Days moving into days with no Nightingales
An anxious painter with no canvas
Tradition is a blind passing on of complacency
Ancient spirits placed in new bodies
Creeds and colors faded by the years
Feeble borders woven by fragile threads
Vulnerability living on a bright new stage
Breakers move in with their wrecking balls
Breaking down borders with their heavy feet
Tradition is a peacock that lost its pride
Conformity is a yellow and blue sweater
Woven with the spirit of emancipating dreams
That flap their wings and hover above
Oh those energetic thoughts that they are
Poets lift their heavy feet and fly to the skies
Taking their words that they invented with them
Scraping the moss beneath the feet of tradition
Breaking through new horizons with their voices
Writing stories with electric pens and passions
Defying all tradition and its conforming smiles
Where life is a warm blanket and a lullaby
A sleepwalk into the forest of new invention
Oh those brave poets riding on white horses
Their dreams breaking through the sound barrier
Their voices shouting over the hills of silence
“Life is a new frontier and tradition is an old story
Life is a spice that freshens up flattened out soups
Life is a potpourri of passion and sweet tears”
Life is a dream that came to my bed one night
Dressed in its rain bowed suits and pink shoes
As it leaned down and whispered in my ear
“A Breaker you must be, for tradition is calling”
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