The poet wonders (TH)

The poet wonders

to his doubtful lonely self

if he can be God.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Undoing Ourselves (TH)

We undo ourselves for a bargain & never mind the money we save as it falls through holey pockets, leaving a golden path of debt behind for tiny children to admire & maybe get something cheap yet so special from one of those machines with the game where everyone’s a winner all the time. Some take the joy one can get with little while others grow to become old, not able to find the strength for a smile as their greed for shiny coins chokes them like the once curious child they used to be.
Read more

Sleep like angels (MS)

Tomorrow is an adventure we have already had when the birds and children lay their head welcoming that soft pillow, sleep, they dream that adults tear down fortress walls and mosters use shields to protect them from the debris. Waking brings the dreams to an abrupt end. Yesterday is a game yet to be played. boys turn into men ro escape the nest but find only calloused skin & fisticuffs seeking always the approval of fathers whose broken childhood had no concept of play & instead drank away the last drop of their reason till they were out of this world before death put them out of their misery.. Meanwhile mothers moan as they, too, aren’t ready for sleeping angels dreams of soft adventures or soft caress.
Read more