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Get Up
by Parth Salva
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  To be a master of lyrical rhyme
A part is lost that was mine
From birth till death to birth, most grow up confused groveling in dirt
Nothing to care about, just site and shout,
And moan and groan, about what life has to offer,
Sit quietly and suffer in your Ignorance!
Chant your mantra of self-loathing immersed in a trance of candy canes and tooth ferries,
where the hot sun shines
and down come the snow flurries.
All is well in your cocoon of cacophony.
Life is good in your microcosm of deception,
fallen prey to the macrocosm
of hate and aggression.

Living mechanically day after day,
Methodically you say you are happy,
driven by your subjectivity like a weak little puppy.
The center of your own universe,
wearing Tommy Hilfiger and Converse,
While some sick little kid in some plutonian country labors day after day,
hour after hour
Hands rough enough to scour the hardest slab of granite from Mt. Rushmore
It's a wonder you can live like this,
robotically draining away like one continuous drip.
What do you want??
Are you happy yet??
Running diarrhea of the mouth,
like a chicken who's blind
to the superficiality of his own reality.
Laying eggs as impressions on others,
before Shiva comes and smothers
your ignorance,
to that you owe penance.
Content, satisfied, not at all,
dwelling only in ONE shade of life's ball,
but missing the totality of it all.
Getting run down by life you sit and stall the inevitable deconstruction of your very being.
The end are you seeing??
The punch line of life,
the ZING you get after a shot of liquor,
the chillum you smoke to hit that "high",
Did you GET IT yet??
Blind as a bat I bet.
Open your eyes and see through the mirage of your materialistic borage,
to attain oneness with your self,
unity of the totality,
Open your mind to your own DIVINE POTENTIALITY!
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October 07, 2001
More By: Parth Salva
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