29 July 2006
5:13 PM
A door moves, eyes peek through slits
It searches your soul
We enter with surreptitious surrender, blaming all but one
It tells you; rebuff the affectationThe curtain
drawn; burdened, in ways more than one
The revelry over; it reeks of fraudulent gaiety still.
Deceit can engulf you, yet dispositions mend
Like a wound after days of plastered asphyxiation
Like a cobbler grasping a sullied shoe
"
get your shoes mended, get your souls repaired"something like
Food for Thought, more food for thinking.
Work and people should not be left in the blistering sun
It might get cancer.
Too late then,
the life's all gone.
Responsibility is selfishness
Passion your prerogative
What remains when passion turns cold, like a
shoulder of ham.
Like the leaves from a fallen tree.This is a waltz.
I hear its triple cadence, the fugue's fusion.
The violin's painful poignant swansong
And the tapping of heel on parquet; the mad hatter's rhyme.
This is travesty.
this is a dance to a tuneless jingle.
And the laughter that buries the melody
Long before it has begun.
And we never thought we'd be here.
Here is this
barrenness.
-the anonymous; the nameless._______________________________
