Flowering Daisies

A Poem by Andy Shae

A nonsensical look at the trials and tribulations of war. Interpret the rest for yourselves.

Flowering Daisies

Lips with the same blush as the freshly consumed morsels of song.

Consuming, consuming, consuming.

Never an end to the eternal rest of the draftees.

Talking. Talking. Mutilating.

Not a word as they walk away from the salver.

Put away the caliver and never tough it again.

Let it go. The feeling of ripping and tearing apart worlds of countless hoi polloi.

Not another one. Not another word. Please. Please. Stop it. Now!

No more words talking at me in the middle of the night. Haunting with a singe twist, a wriggle of insanity.

Do you know those creatures? Hidden beneath the petals of the superior. The leaves fall away in the wind and what? The flower challenges nature and reveals itself to life itself. It loves the light and basks in it. It becomes an equal to its surroundings. It becomes just as tall as the oaks in the meadow, just as grand, just not as serene. Constantly in motion. Deciding his animations a whim. Living life to the fullest.

Quiet.

Intense quiet.

Lasting intense quiet.

A short fused vagabond. Living his loves unto the cigarettes of mankind. Glass cigarettes on the lips of love.

Men of their words.

Not promising more than an armful of misery and a boatfull of desire.

Flowering daisies. Trusting vagabonds. ‘Tis all the same.