The Divide

The Divide

A Poem by Brae

Newton took it all wrong 
When that apple dropped 
The same sweet, deadly orb 
That dug Eve’s grave 
One sunny day in Paradise

One small misprint 
And all the Kings men 
Have been running backward 
Ever since 
And the clock strikes everywhere but now 
In Babylon’s flea market

Logic's legacy 
Lays waste to more 
Than just the moon 
Or mother’s milk

It took the light from our mouths 
And left us stoned, and silent 
Like lambs who lead themselves 
To a sleep far worse 
Than slaughter

Damn you, Descartes 
With your wooden tools 
Of duality 
You have joined the hunt 
For the last free rainbow 
Not trapped in glass

What madness made you thus 
What secret fear 
Fed your musings 
When you drove a wedge 
Between the children 
And the sky

Small surprise how quick they came 
Your henchmen 
Heel snapped and hands raised 
In allegiance to the lie

The gates were down, and science 
Like an evil clown 
Led us ever further from the red clay 
Of our birth 
With cathode eyes that blinked 
With the mirth of madmen

Ah, Einstein 
You should have never set your violin down 
They took your lightening 
And traded it for tickets 
To the last show on earth 
Front row seats with Mephistopheles

Perhaps you still fiddle 
Near the flames 
Of an unknown Rome

And Sorry won’t help 
Now that we’re a*s backwards 
In the streetcar of desire 
Strapped in and sold out 
To the lowest bid 
Of a broken atom

Oh, you sad and greedy sailors 
Down and out in Sodom 
You were seduced long before 
This bloody sunset

Yes, you, and all your legions 
Of the well behaved 
Are only paying the debt of division 
The price of praying to a God 
Divorced from green rivers 
And wine

You thinkers, high on your throne 
Your vanity has killed us all 
We should have fed you to the wolves 
Long before your tongues tricked us 
Before we could believe 
We were any different than the dirt

Forgive use, Father Time 
We forgot your words

Forgive us, Gaia 
For we have given you away

© 2016 Brae


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Added on March 14, 2016
Last Updated on March 14, 2016

Author

Brae
Brae

CA



About
Poetry is the gibberish that the soul speaks, the broken songs from the far side of our selves. We all talk, walk and write, but not every day do we speak in ways that move our guts, that make us long.. more..

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