Mirror Smoke

This is one of those miserably sodden days of sinus congestion
Forcing my writing soul back against the wall to unleash itself
to speak out against senseless multiplication
In that timeless frustration of controlled freedom
We of the twenty first century call the rat race
Swept along in the floes and flows of like minded souls
As each struggles to assert itself before spinning
Once again into the maelstrom of suburban self esteem
and dogmatted dignity
The age of the big commute is winding to a close
Grinding into the sands of time
As people realize there's nowhere left to run
No little piece of heaven away from madding hordes
Education has dashed itself to pieces on the stoned walls of liberalism
Pieces of books on Shakespeare, endless pieces of books on Shakespeare
Spin away in the current of present racing day
Did no one listen? Could no one read between the lines?
Where is the Nostre Damus of today to wave his upright lance?
laughing at this cruel cosmic joke
Methinks man doth multiply trying to unravel mirrored sunlight
Beget and begorrah
Can this be the lost and severed strand of hope
Swirling in the twisting dashing waves of time?
To sleep Perchance to dream alas poor Yoric
enthroned in the hearts of kings
To go a kinging in the ages of Darkness
Riding the T to Where?

Reviews

[Sel Whiteley]

Wow, this is beautifully penned, we really see thoughts as you feel them through the lens of feeling sick. Introspective and thought-provoking.

[Gandré]

I like your Weltbild, many people can find themselves in such moments, when someone feels sick as you write, we have time to think about fundamental questions of our culture.. to which thoughtful writers, in their more reflective moments, are drawn, I love your reflective poetry.