Truths

Modern Poetry, experimentation with stream of consciousness

Truths

 

All of it seems to be the truth;

Only truth, nothing but the truth.

Shackles of letters to the

Mocking of zoo.

 

Remind me to return on a Sunday while

Traversing the outskirts of the horizon mile,

Where the golden greens stood still

Grimly to the truths will

Where the drops fell and flew

Where the great wind with shackles blew.

 

Here the grey sky is blue with a sluggish hue

Here it sounds, the sounds, and only the sounds.

Here the mindless minds come,

To salvage the spirit and some

Ashes of nights, the nights, and only the only nights.