The Tears of a Crowd Forming

because everything in the garden is not always rosey and I presently fear for the future

The Tears of a Crowd Forming

 

Hark, and come closer,

what is it you

feel through the soles

  

of your feet ..

Can you hear them

assembling and

numbered, each ragged

  

and real ..

Queuing in line and such

  

vast numbers ..

Unsightly, uneven in row

  

upon row ..

Yet as yet, still frightfully

ordered

  

and neatly composed ..

However,

take note, before long

the sounds

you shall hear will be those

of our tears

forming and falling, in some

kind of obscene

  

and collective defeat ..

 

Indeed ..

What began as a trickle,

now rages

outrageously, like a swift

flowing river

of saline corroding, all that

  

it touches enroute ..

So hark and come closer ..

Pray what

can you taste, through

your nose,

your palms, your tongue

  

and your throat ..

No doubt nothing but fear

  

and adrenaline ..

So fight it, come closer

stand directly

behind me and hold fast

to my skirts

Oh’ and pray, keep both

  

your eyes firmly shut ..

For I am afraid

whilst there may be no

  

scenic route near ..

There may yet be more

than enough,

 

sorry sights, for both of us ..

And be sure

  

not to look at the babies ..

Torn from their

own mothers breasts,

nor at too many freshly

dug graves

that might otherwise,

whisper

  

your name, as you pass ..

And if you can

keep far away from the

lime pits because

they will blind and will

  

burn you ..

While the dogs roam

everywhere

  

free and unchecked ..

Snapping blindly

and drawing blood if

they can, or they think

  

they can ..

And don’t be fooled

by the teeth overflowing

  

from buckets ..

Each pulled for the gold

  

they contain ..

But now and then tho’

more randomly

  

for nothing but fun ..

Then later,

shorn like beasts for

the hair on

their heads from which

we all make

first rate ghetto blankets

these days and our

  

famed winter mattresses ..

But instead, fall soundly

asleep without

  

heads full of nightmares ..

Or blinded by

  

glare from the arc lamps ..

Bouncing off

yellow stained cloth stars

haphazardly set

  

against a backdrop of hate ..

Just ripe for pinning

come morning, to writhing

grey mountains

piled high with blue striped

  

pyjamas ..

Smelling more thirties perhaps

than two

  

thousand & twenty something ..

 

Author's Note

I sincerely hope we never hear such sounds again .. but the way things are going sure as hell worries me ..

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

Read this way back, couldn't review then. Opinion remains the same however. This is you, poet, at your finest. .

How viciously and despicably cruel people can be and are, to others often more fragile, sans hope or...'merely' different.

Your words throw up the thought of concentration camps visited during my uni course; our group was led by a grandson who had heard details of.. Like many have seen the horrors of recent famines - more often or not laid by persecutors that even outdid and in many cases, outdo Man's inhumanity.

This poem hurts: in fact it scars more than likely, BUT it should. It MUST

[Neville]

yes, sadly some people can be very cruel indeed .. thank you for visiting what is essentially a crime scene.

[danielle.]

Dark but brilliant, I found this a disturbingly enjoyable read. Humanity has has had many such days and no doubt there will be more. My inner optimist believes there is still much beauty to balance the ugliness, hope to counter despair. Xo

[Neville]

I am glad you stopped by danielle many thanks indeed my friend .. Neville

[carl]

a very powerful and profound write. The form of the work fits excellently with the subject as the intensity builds throughout the piece as a sad commentary on man's inhumanity. a horrific memory and a stark warning. A brave work, thank you for the post -carl

[Neville]

thank you and kindly Carl for taking a few moments to consider these words and what lies uncomfortably beneath them .. Neville

[AYVID N]

Its a horrendous picture of the past, those melted humans, those buckets overflowing with teeth. We think it will never happen again, that the world has come a long way since but no sir, man is never too far from the verge of such evil insanity. You're very very right in wondering and worrying about it as any thinking man would because it's happening all around us and it's so unhinged that it can blow out of proportion, anytime. In fact, it would be some kind of divine intervention if it didn't.


"What began as a trickle,
now rages
outrageously, like a swift
flowing river
of saline corroding, all that
it touches enroute .."

I loved these lines and agree absolutely that grief will corrode everything and leave no one untouched. This so grim, so grim. Thank you for such a thought provoking poem.

[Neville]

it's always good to know who thinks similarly ..
I guess its the safety in numbers thing .. like I mentioned earlier, I am glad we are on the same side .. I've got your back, I'm so glad you got mine .. N :)

[AYVID N]

Always here my friend. :)

[Neville]

........................ 😇

[Dave Brown]

Very difficult to watch all this taking place
It is obvious who the world’s biggest a*****e is at present and I just read an article identifying the worlds top individual polluters
Will exposing them do any good???
As long as power and wealth dominate mankind’s agenda, we will continue up s++t creek to whatever conclusion.

[Neville]

I take it that's either a resounding yes or no then sir Dave

[Chris Shaw]

Dear Neville. I read twice. On the first reading by line seven I knew where I was going. The poem was a long one strung out much like those lines of waiting people queuing and shuffling forward. I found myself moving with them. fear and adrenaline pumping because I knew where I was going. It is good to be confronted with the past because we don’t seem to learn by our mistakes do we? You know I fear for the future. I fear for my grandchildren in particular. History has a way sadly of repeating itself and democracy is being eroded away in my opinion. We all know what dictatorships lead too. I wrote a poem once about the boy in blue striped pyjamas. My granddaughter asked me if it was true. Sadly I had to tell her that things like that had happened during the war. Each generation should know what happened. It shouldn’t be whitewashed as some would prefer.

A very strong write. I think I need a strong brew.

Chris

[Neville]

There was so much I felt needed to be said and to squeeze in, but I rushed .. and revised half a dozen times .. I shall leave it as is now for folks to visit or not .. but thanks Chris .. I share many of your own outlined fears and anxieties .. Neville

[Chris Shaw]

I think you did well here Neville. Your poem needed to say alot. Too many people are forgetful. They need to be reminded and remain also to remain aware.

Chris

[Chris Shaw]

Oops you know what I mean …

[Neville]

.................................. I do 💜