Wash it down

The rotting corpse of a fragrant rose

sprouts from ditritus of a peaceful war

watered with the talking bullets of thought

empty shells on a pharmaceutical shore

The insanity of normality

infects news tattered brains

to stampede in lockstep

toward a black hole of inevitable gains

A doily of crocheted lace

woven by Arachne's hand

portraying beauty and disgrace

painted in ichor on time's sand

excreting the stench of neutrality

from the maggots of modern road kill

An infants sigh, intrauterine smile

Technology's morning after pill

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

Powerful words and dark imagery Soren. When will we have peaceful times? I fear we won’t. We will have more of the Ukraine’s sadly. And they call this progress? I think not. Always good to read your fine poetry. All the best.

Chris

[Soren]

Thank you Chris, you are most generous. Glad you came by.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

the news everywhere, it is insanity...and somehow we survive to another day...
but the gains are on the negative side of the slate.
No peace...yes, the maggots thrive...war torn Ukraine, mass shootings everywhere...the worms are licking their chops.
Empty shells of aftershock...
this poem is incredibly strong.
j.

[Soren]

Thanks Jacob I appreciate your review and kind words