Thursday, October 20, 2005

Poetry. Yeah, yeah, eat me.

Slowly faltering on the plain,
the time has come for something new.
Now the drops begin the rain,
and on the leaves collecting dew.
The cleverly wasted urban scene,
the bike path and corporate store.
And now awakening from the dream,
the shattered lives of a broken war.
And so returns unwelcome reality,
the taste remains unfortunately sour.
The reminder of our sad frailty,
the bleeding boy’s final hour.
So impossible now to blame the other,
similar frustrated recruit.
And how our words now bleed the brother,
and so too the man with the suit.
We erase the spot and trouble there,
ignoring he who broke the silence.
Breathing deep freshly polluted air,
and dreaming no more of the violence.
So does shake this man’s hands,
so the thought breaks his mind.
And for all their promises and plans,
he was still left behind.

I’ve never seen the ending,
I pray it’s graceful.
For they deserve more than this.


At 20.10.05, Anonymous Anonymous said...

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