The reflection of the intellect
Introspected and connected
on that which brought us low
in the moment dark above
Why were they even allowed
to bring our vision down
in a single day on that which is
The morning of all our woes
The molders and the tyrannical
Setting themselves as gods over us
on flights of fancy
A position that we never ascribed
to thieves like this
and yet were fed the castor oil
of indifference for years before
and so the impact lay minimal at our feet
We were found standing
in their direction
Just now in the underbelly
of this creature
they unleashed grumbles
rising in a churning
and uncivil resistance
Why do they rage inside
and yet even they
are led by the nose
on chains to calamity
(October 22nd, 2017)
YOU ARE READING
Post Modern Mystic
PoetryPoetry fills a need of the human heart to express through the construction of artistic verse, the things that hide in its depths. This book of poetry is my attempt to reach those places and beyond. See if I do. Let me know if I reach you. This will...
