A Graduated Conflict of Morality
by Michael Doyle

The late 1960s were a time of generational conflict
With more moral questions than principles to inflict
Restrictions on all the choices between the right
And wrong of what was needed to get through the night

To some, it might seem fiercely stupid to be clean-cut
And to live in this way might seem as if stuck in a rut
It's quirky but odd how we all change our pointed views
As we age and learn and experience life's varied hues

Funny how time sweeps us along in waves of feeling
As we search our souls and find ourselves revealing
That time changes all things and some more than not
We mean to stay the same, and somehow that is forgot

As we look into the neon signs found in daylight
Living the merits of each moment's own pleasure
As life's blown smoke blurs our fading sight
And we secretly smile as we watch, and we measure

Moving in life's rooms, from top to bottom
And wade through the memories of things forgotten
His and her hearts create pockets of poetry,
And these hearts fill with visions we long to see

Touching and holding onto the sounds of silence
As we live our lives through mostly peaceful violence
Desperately clinging to our questions loudly
In the echoes of lost passages, we once held proudly

Life's values are clung to and lived day-to-day
Life's virtues and challenges go beyond what we say
This is especially true as we make choices with anxiety
Trying to resolve these moments in all their complexity

At times, there is nothing but stabs at  indiscretion
While we see a youth learn a bit about consideration
As wild-eyed fantasies can push us to the extremes
It seems that lessons are learned by living our dreams

Still, we find we wish to be faces in the crowd
And life changes us into the ghosts of ones not so proud
But who managed to become loved all the same
In the ruthless walk of society's savage games

Laying, drifting, aimlessly floating in a pool
Thinking about life and all its complex rules
Instinctively we know there is nothing more to feel
Than knowing these things that too often pass for real

Trivia becomes its own conversation piece
With nothing in common than to seek release
Like that felt between two lovers sharing stolen time
Caught in that something that becomes sublime

There is something nostalgic about a love once new
Growing cold as we learn that deception is not true
It whispers sadly in our ears as it becomes old
The trail of life we once hunted grows strangely cold

Maybe it is that sometimes tribes have nothing to say
And are better off in letting each go separate ways
Adoration fades into despise of the things stood for
While the best of moments fade into the abyss of no more

Like the eyes of a poet turned into a camera lens
The composition of the story simply begins
When the momentary explanation becomes its own scene
Even as we realize that we don't know what it means

We cannot outrun our own fabricated lies
Pretending we are more then what is seen in our eyes
We need to trust in the process, enjoying the journey
Find life is too serious for something so funny

(c) January 13, 2024   Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved