... and you?

I will never fall for dark digital wolfs
that lurk in murky quiet pools
where airy assailants silently die


nor for the unoutspoken,
the thought of but not voiced,

the seen but not accepted break
with tradition and all you thought
could make a difference
in wild chambers of no commerce

yes I can see that, but never the less

it is always about someone else

it is always about the call
of the righteous and thus ganged up

with the sullen retribution of all that you miss

and all that you actually thought
was a rite written in a calamity

you don't accept
even though it is naught

but you, and you, and you...


if not for all that you represent
or voice with what all will say or break

in a day's
violent hearsay

all this would be less
than what a cat
that tails rats in a day's heart
could bear,
all that one could be
in a tale of righteous rites.


I am dead.

Poetry by Bob
Read 510 times
Written on 2008-05-27 at 22:06

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Me, too.

(I read this all the way down, and came to the last line, and then I stopped and just sat here for a second, not even thinking, just feeling. Thank you.)