Angst of post-industrial man under late capitalism.


I'm a man - not a cog in a machine.

In the gutters, 'neath a paper,
sorrow vanished like a vapor
and healthy shades of rosy pink
suffused my limbs enforced by drink.

I had not known that life was not
where some knew growth and some knew rot.
No, all will walk my path one day.
What matters love for hunted prey?

Beneath the windows by the wall
I heard corruptions' lovely call:
-"Your death lies but an inch away -
come cherish all my sweet decay."

-"To live? To die? It matters not.
I've wearied of this earthly lot
where man is judged in wage and cost
and cravings of the soul are lost."

I lay there dreaming of the sea,
of fishing calmly from the quay
whilst thumbing through Keats' poetry.
But dreams are dreams - just not to me.




Poetry by An-ders
Read 671 times
Written on 2011-12-01 at 12:16

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Well said, well written.
2011-12-02