The Hunter

This is another one that was meant to be a song.  I almost certainly wrote this in highschool.  It is rewritten here, with apologies to Brian Hunter, who taught me how to love my brain.  This, rather peripherally, reflects a philosophy we’ve both long since outgrown, but it still has a few familiar echoes.

*

The Hunter

*

They’ve made up your mind for  you, they’ve set up all your rules.

You can make your own creation if you do it with their tools,

So you turn within yourself but know there is no peace.

You let them bind you with their standards and now there’s no release,

So you sit staring inward and you see what you have done.

You let them rearrange your soul and now you are no one.

*

Find yourself within yourself,

Face your fate undaunted.

Blow your brother’s mind away,

Death’s all he ever wanted.

*

And the hunter is the hunted

in the annals of your mind.

I can’t teach you how to see;

you’re already blind.

Don’t search for true reality;

it’s something you can’t find.

*

What was born within you, you long ago let die

You did it to be normal but you’re living out a lie.

You let yourself be limited because they said you were.

You’d fill yourself with cyanide if they told you it would cure

the empty hole inside you but you did on your own.

You changed to fit society; you’ve never been so all alone.

*

When you lose your own uniqueness

to walk where sane men tread.

You’ve joined our fine society;

you’re already dead.

*

And the hunter is the hunted

in the annals of your mind.

I can’t teach you how to see;

you’re already blind.

Don’t search for true reality;

it’s something you can’t find.

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5 thoughts on “The Hunter

  1. I’d like to hear the music that would go with these words 🙂 Sad when we see someone morph into someone they aren’t just so they fit in the mold of what people say they should be.

    1. Other than the rythmn of the poem spoken, I had no music in mind for this one, but I suspect it would sound a bit like a Rush tune. In this case, I was addressing the outward “you” of youth (as in not “us” or in this case “not me and Brian”). I enjoy “saving” the poems of my youth here (the ones fit to share, that is), but I am often amused when I am able to recall what was behind them.

      Despite that, I learned many valuable practices in the discussions of life, philosophy, society, and “the nature of thought” that Brian and I shared. He was, and is, a good friend.

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