Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash
---- Leonard Cohen
Thursday, July 9, 2009
A frustrated lament
Once a tough minded tree Reaching for the skies, Her raised arms, leave an unprotected trunk Susceptible to the axe police.
Cuts on the surface, Thrusts into the psyche, She tries not to crumble, Sheathed in a leafy wrap.... As Ill laden clouds, Threaten the mind, "You dare not grow without me, No standing at ease Just a life long 'Attention!'...."
And as gardeners, and greeners watch in despair, She becomes a Sunflower, blindly following a lying sun in connivance with the clouds, Eyes wide shut, The mind as blank As a sheet covering a sofa, Constantly wiped creaseless, destroying reality, A deafening deadness of mind.....
And the burning sun Peers from behind the murderous cloud, and rejoices, As one more layer of her mind withers, and dies.....