Condemned


Curse the poets with oblivion.
They haven t changed a thing.
There still is war and pestilential greed
In spite of how they sing.

Damn the poets to perdition.
They haven t fathomed Fate.
The grave is still inscrutable, yet near
No poet makes death wait.

Banish poets to cruelest torture.
They deserve the rack
For promising your heart to me
When rhymes won t woo you back.
09-23-83

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Lamia

The lady bade me linger for awhile Beside the cypress in the burying-yard. She fetched me to a graveside with her smile And set me on a marker cold and hard. She smiled. It all comes down to this, you know, That kings and merchants, each the same, Will sleep as brothers is a marble row Till mosses blanket over each proud name. I shivered mid-November air breathed chill And I looked down at my watch. The hour was late. I said, However much I d like to listen still, My appointment scheduled in the village cannot wait. She smiled and begged my pocket-knife from me, Then carved my name upon the cypress tree. 12-10-90 (04-18-80 Lamia)
Read more

And Blind

Time s never slow, Minutes, they go Ticking fast, Floating, they flow Toward the past. Seconds, they fall Over Time s wall Into Then, Deaf to the call Of Now s men. 09-28-75
Read more