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Same Old sometimes even the golden chain the Word that wisdom wrote is not enough to stem the tide that makes the sunset rote again, again, again, again each day is like before, so you have to make what matters not and take what doesn't cure you want to die but health keeps on, you do because you can't, you try to speak with a certain wit without falling into Kant but the wind blows smoke rings between rasps on your porch through the pyramid chime, while the nilus coils like an angry asp at your jew who seeks the sine no wisdom here your greek laments its torture to go on, your two dissolves and separates into just one and one you're where you were yet one more time but it won't be the last, your curtain falls just where it raised like your future into past. |
Additional Notes:
For MAH.
Well . . . now it is.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joe Gustin On Date: 2013-08-26 11:47:10
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
This poem to me seems like a crisis of faith. As if nothing we do or say willl change in enivitable. That this path we are on is not a straight line but rather a cirlce. The closing lines are so empresive Beauifully presented poem thankyou