I return from a meaningless war
After witnessing a senseless carnage.
Behind me, bows and arrows with a
Hollow quiver.
The war is over, but rages on beyond
My escaped limits, where iguanas hum
Messages across festered hills.
The war was senseless and so was I.
The cause was infantile, ruthlessly foolish.
......
Sweet are some moments -
Refrains of happy, healthy breath;
Some turn harder and bitter
We must have to fight life to death.
Time robs us of the loved ones
Putting our patience to a hard test;
Filled with awe and dismay
We overcome it but beat our chest.
......
I recall the flying doctor,
bespectacled by polished
glass-fragments of fallen stars,
who landed flat on his young tummy,
equipped with scalpels and other weapons of
native medicine.
His first-ever surgery was on a pregnant
calabash —over a fragile, stinking earth
ached constantly by a proud dancing tumour.
There are no immovable objects,
nor are there unstoppable forces,
but there are objects we can't move,
and forces we can't stop,
and questions we can't answer,
so purpose becomes the paradox.
My mind contains all of the world,
and my thoughts and feelings, too,
but to say the world contains us
is at least equally as true.
......
I've choked down platters of self-loathing and vaguely defined sin,
I've swallowed the stinging comments that are still etched onto my skin,
I'll drain this glass of apathy, and when it fills I'll drink it again,
I tear into the raw flesh of my heart, will this dinner ever end?
Salmonella, salmonella, the doctors say raw meat will make you ill,
But I've been sick inside for the longest time, so I'll be sure to eat my fill,
I still taste the rust inside my mouth when my gaze lingers on a razor,
But final rest is the last course, an earned reward, so set aside that plate for later.
......
I return from a meaningless war
After witnessing a senseless carnage.
Behind me, bows and arrows with a
Hollow quiver.
The war is over, but rages on beyond
My escaped limits, where iguanas hum
Messages across festered hills.
The war was senseless and so was I.
The cause was infantile, ruthlessly foolish.
......
I recall the flying doctor,
bespectacled by polished
glass-fragments of fallen stars,
who landed flat on his young tummy,
equipped with scalpels and other weapons of
native medicine.
His first-ever surgery was on a pregnant
calabash —over a fragile, stinking earth
ached constantly by a proud dancing tumour.
I've choked down platters of self-loathing and vaguely defined sin,
I've swallowed the stinging comments that are still etched onto my skin,
I'll drain this glass of apathy, and when it fills I'll drink it again,
I tear into the raw flesh of my heart, will this dinner ever end?
Salmonella, salmonella, the doctors say raw meat will make you ill,
But I've been sick inside for the longest time, so I'll be sure to eat my fill,
I still taste the rust inside my mouth when my gaze lingers on a razor,
But final rest is the last course, an earned reward, so set aside that plate for later.
......
There are no immovable objects,
nor are there unstoppable forces,
but there are objects we can't move,
and forces we can't stop,
and questions we can't answer,
so purpose becomes the paradox.
My mind contains all of the world,
and my thoughts and feelings, too,
but to say the world contains us
is at least equally as true.
......
Sweet are some moments -
Refrains of happy, healthy breath;
Some turn harder and bitter
We must have to fight life to death.
Time robs us of the loved ones
Putting our patience to a hard test;
Filled with awe and dismay
We overcome it but beat our chest.
......