Lifting Oneself Up Despite the Chains
The leafs litter the ground in pre-decom
The lady shuffles through, ready to sue
As the leafs ought to know better–or, the trees,
with all their committees.
She’ll sue the county for letting the trees live.
she’ll sue the county for the changing of colours.
she’ll sue the sweeper, the inspector, the mayor and doctor;
She’ll sue the police, the ranger, the children of actors.
She swears. She’ll sue.
Believe. I believe. So, I say I will sue too!
I’ll sue the source! I’ll sue the trees, for being bad trees.
I’ll sue the leafs (for falling of course!)
i’ll sue the squirrel, the pigeon, and the gypsy horse!
You can’t. Don’t be daft!
She quipped as she laughed.
from niggling to giggling in one breath
where others pray for her early death.
Let us go explore the lure of brightness
offered up by an awoken orchid.
It will not reveal what it has not hid
at the entrance in bold righteousness:
a sharp yellow carpet invites the warm
trusting traveller to the cool candy cane
stage of pure sensation. Dont fear, no harm
will come to those who are beyond the pain
of foresight. And hindsight serves no reason
for those that have forgotten. Oh, we dance
upon petals of purity. Seasons
change as minds set against the cruel romance
led astray by the cruel, bitter heckel
of the wild laughter of the winged jackal.
The cygnets slowly flow against the edge
Of bulrushes and thunder clouds, thinning
The darkened moods with hope. This narrow ledge
I reflect upon. My thoughts are spinning,
Pirouetting, ballet-Odettes dancing
Just beyond the reach of the outstretched mind.
Such loveliness of sight, seven swanlings
Swimming between cob and pen. Yes, mankind
Would do well to swim together: defined
Harmony. Disappears. Seven become
Four grey graces turning white. Unrefined
Foresight. Impurities–the swan shrinks from.
The parents, sensing weakness in some young,
Swiftly neck them to keep the species strong.
*Thanks mother, for not being a swan.
Once a man faces his own back street mask
Folded thrice, ironed (and hung with care to
Dry upon a cold steel stair out of reach),
Enduring the lone struggle of a task
Asked of the self, to be, and not to do
Degrading actions of those who teach
Endlessly the meanings of compassion
Needless of victims, then can he become
Devoid of this assembled thoughtlessness.
A man sits in a dead-end alley. Some
Lie has been spread, that he is dead. Though less
Lies are said:
Ernst contemplated the brick in the wall;
Yet insisted it didn’t exist at all.