lost by the second ticking

lost by the second ticking
a cold winter's night
folded by deep green waiting
and small birds abiding
with tiny clocks
hovering shuddering
in feathery clouds
I find myself no longer
a warrior for the just
and the planet dying

there are words for this
but real contempt is circumcised
with greed and anger
there are trees that can hear
the horror of our time
talk of fiery intent
of a death to all
that can be served cold
there is no creek hidden
at the edge of all hope



Poetry by Bob
Read 904 times
Written on 2018-01-14 at 09:34

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