Enemy Time

no matter how we distract ourselves, Time will beat us.

Alaric starved, we are part of the noise.

we hear the voices, but panic listen

We are all islands, shouting meaning.

It's the enemy's prison.

Where we are starved,

hoping someone will munch our words

before the blade takes us.

From birthing squall to dying sigh.

We want.

We hear, we hear but ignore.

Beliefs and faiths arm us in gauze.

I think some people kill, curious about their own death.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

what an interesting poem, Mark.
and the last line is so poignant and reminds me of Emily D.
"we have the power to kill but not the power to die"---
and luckily there are those who will munch our words...yes, there are.
j.

[Mark]

Thanks Jacob! We are lucky to find others who want to munch on what we say. (and write)