The Regressives

I see a melee of regressives
hurrying back into the future
boasting and priding in adhoc features
with no direction nor perfect pictures
A cue signifying their illusion is real

The simple and good; their last resorts
The bad and the complex; their ideal slots
Reverence for the superficial; their delight
Their purpose; fizzled, blurred and hazy
With no desire to nurture their sixth senses

A legion of leaders without willing followers
Goons who only wage war for the sake of peace
From their gated abodes, they protest with ease
Terrified, as they stare at the petrified rebels
heckling free men in shackles...

I am not leaving because i stopped living
Neither will i stop because i stopped moving
I am rewriting the scenes to avert the common sins
To bring to the fore, the damage and the carnage
Until everyone is freed from their raged anger

For their respite, they will need expressive love
To break their silence in the face of freedom of speech
To make the simple and good; their ideal slots
The complex and bad; their last resorts
And Get back to the basics to become progressives