your words and their best intentions
cut sickle and thrown wide. spit
into the wind and taste the salt
of your wounds. the fruit of this failed
and barren womb treads long
across empty fields and anxious minds.
great seas that divide the 'chosen'
and their choicy armchair politiks.
welcome his children with open arms;
muslin draped muslims and evangelical
prayers for the dead. come close my child
and kiss the hand of god! a mighty papacy
in ignorant defiance of a peter, paul or mary?
oh his words and their best intentions,
how we've failed the love of an honest Man.
cut sickle and thrown wide. spit
into the wind and taste the salt
of your wounds. the fruit of this failed
and barren womb treads long
across empty fields and anxious minds.
great seas that divide the 'chosen'
and their choicy armchair politiks.
welcome his children with open arms;
muslin draped muslims and evangelical
prayers for the dead. come close my child
and kiss the hand of god! a mighty papacy
in ignorant defiance of a peter, paul or mary?
oh his words and their best intentions,
how we've failed the love of an honest Man.
3 comments:
that is the most resounding, tremendous echoing cry - my heart aches, my throat aches, my eyes ache, mu soul weeps
is it bad that i'm not even going to bother thinking about what this poem is actually saying?
for all i know, this could be the most profound, insightful piece of writing ever, or it could not make the slightest bit of sense
but i am just going to enjoy the words and the images and the atmosphere
andy, you really are a poet
taking timid steps,
making meaning blur,
waking with ideas.
then, a whispered word to a young mind
soon, a verse scribbled on a trees gift
now, a typed phrase on a glowing keyboard.
here lies the evolution of a poet, in mind and in method.
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