Night


Night is all you need
to embark on this quest.
A few strings perhaps, an oboe
and a sense of presence.

Theocracies fall, democracies
are disturbingly looking out
for the rule of the majority,
reflections are no different.

The corrupted power of the majority
run pipelines through the heartland
of poor farmers every day
to the echo of burning rubber.

Hoarders of beaches,
insatiable gluttons of soil,
all mongrels of war
with a beef to go:

It is oil and diamonds
they demand,
studded suspenders,
a crutch in a pool of blood.

The Torah says:
open your house to strangers.
The Koran enhances
the importance of kindness.

The Bible says be cheeky.
The flooding of valleys
and the intense deforestation
is a short term lease.

The rich get richer,
the poor savor moments.
It all comes down to
who we really are.

I am the dying of all,
the downfall of man,
the fated collapse,
the end.

Who will rise to the pivot
and domesticate
the stray and the weak?
Dog sleeps like dogs.

Like insects on a crust
of stale bread, like virus
eating, turning tissue to scars,
man consumes himself.




Poetry by Bob
Read 397 times
Written on 2011-02-07 at 18:51

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