Lucifer, you, too, are a fisher of men
and time despairs of men.
Our pride lies in the ravenous  sea - 
from which we sprang - 
and will return.

Dark clouds shadow us, it's true,
and whisper that all that is, is not,
that we are as a piece with mere oblivion.
But, I see, this winding path will never do.
A woman holds her stillborn child.
Do you watch over her
as she suddenly grows older?

No, we are the goose-pimpled ones,
full of bare humanity;
our slurried eyes
leave no impression,
we turn the page.

And death is our only acknowledgement
and love our magical repartee
and our only claim is just, to be. 




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John Marks

Sun 3rd May 2020 23:35

Thanks for stopping by and commenting Po. I use music, as, often, but not always, the highest of the arts, to accompany music's poor cousin, poetry. Sometimes the connection is obvious, sometimes it's tangential. Anyroadup, thanks for taking the time.


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Paul Sayer

Sun 3rd May 2020 19:19

OMG John, I can't thank you enough for posting this link in answer to Keith’s comment.


Sometimes your video links baffle me, as to why you chose to use it to accompany your poem.

You have such an artistic bent. 'The Stones' was I thought a strange link in this instance...


I followed your link above, to one of the most heart-wrenching and warming pieces of art and music I have seen in many a year.

Your poem was right up my street... your link took me home.

Your last line is both inspired and inspiring.

Thank you again

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John Marks

Sat 2nd May 2020 22:47

Not pessimism, dear Keith, never that. Human love is our magical repartee and if we know that, we have something to give. Maybe.


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keith jeffries

Sat 2nd May 2020 17:07


an interesting poem to say the least and written in a manner which is reminiscent of the style found in Paradise Lost. It paints a gloomy but intriguing picture of life, not one that I would share but the poem articulates well the absurdity of life and dare I say drenched in pessimism.

A good poem
Thank you for this


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