Where we’ve been,
where we’ve gone,
the air that our wishes,
were once let loose upon,
the heirs of the dismissive,
the prayers of the strong,
the prison yard politics,
to which we each belong,
but who will check the archives?
who will search when we are gone?
what craft can be created,
to out-do what we have done?
we divide ourselves,
by continental shelves,
we make war and carry on,
in a pattern of regret,
we somehow forget,
to protect the common bond,
to nurture what remains,
between every human being
we are such monstrosities,
walking, talking blasphemies,
without a thing to lean upon,
and in the end of everything,
the same ancient dust,
is deep within all of us
what we’ve evolved from
a history so long,
who will be left here,
when our time has come?
to reconstruct
so much stardust,
into solid human bone?
Reblogged this on Americana Injustica.
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Read this poem again. And again. It just gets better. You’re on to something so powerful and profound. I wish you knew how good you really are.
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I’m onto how fucked up we’ve become as a species, aye….
Thank you for your kudos, though. ♡
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Sigh, this is wonderful. A unique visceral voice
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Thank you, Idk what to say…besides to try and convey how happy it makes me when someone else picks up what I put down…it tickles me. So, thank YOU.
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Your site is mesmerising, bleak, beautiful, dark, pristine, exciting, powerful, gothic, oh and did I say beautiful. Wow
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Um….errr….uhhhhh….wow, thank you. Truly.
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Just…just…I don’t know any more…oh my. Can I email you to pick up this ‘thing’ you pervade with your agonised, exquisite words? I’m at kosmogonic@mail.com if that’s easier. Humbled. Mesmerised…as I said. Oh boy.
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cutthroatclubhouse@gmail.com
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I’ll be on it, I promise. But I might be speechless, so to speak…you are divine, it would appear.
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Dont always believe what appearances be…I’m not divine, never that.
I’m nothing special, dont be speechless, especially since we obviously must each have hearts that write poetry in the same language, eh?
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Divine doesn’t mean perfect, but it might mean imperfectly flawless. And that’s not just poetry, it really isn’t…:-)
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