A Token of my Appreciation

Let us wander my mind, as one would
A Tower of Babel, in search of what's
Wrong with me. It is dark in this place.
It lacks windows and lights, and the things
Which make themselves visible pulsate.
They may not be real. (Are we? I don't
Know.) A poem appears, a daily occurrence,
And, in it, are sorrows, always such sorrows.
The lover is lost. The species decays.
And bigots and mental defectives take
Charge. Backward is said to be better
Than forward. We back through the tower.
Nothing is learned, my mind having proven
To be a black hole. The species expires.
Each one of them does, and the tower
Collapses, a well-deserved end for a poet
Whose keening goes largely unheard.
You may leave, if you'd like. I don't want
To keep living. I've searched, but I still
Cannot say what is wrong. I shall place
Myself, prone, on the field where the bricks
Of the tower are strewn, and I'll draw
One last breath. The universe needs neither
People nor poets. Goodbye. Thanks
For tagging along.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 44 times
Written on 2019-12-30 at 04:38

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