Holy Brokenness

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Missing the wildness of my younger self

I degenerate into words. Waiting, between

Sentences, for the Muse to catch up with me,

I fulminate, flash like lightning, explode so

Violently that I catch myself thinking this

Is an all an act to compensate for the time

Brian climbed that tree before disappearing

To Japan for all eternity. I wish Haiku was true.

That an apple blossom flash of inspiration

Could cancel out the impure repetiveness

Of so-much empty rhetoric - and the worse is

That those who claim the mantle of Bertolt Brecht

Could so easily forget that every human life is precious,

Even those whose opinions you despise

Could open up your eyes to the holy imperfections,

That make us love all  that is frail, human and passing

◄ A way a lone a last a loved

Growing older but no wiser ►

Comments

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John Marks

Sun 27th Jan 2019 01:12

Bat Man yerself!! Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age.

poemagraphic

Sun 27th Jan 2019 00:13

Holy Shit Bat Man!

Great John.. Just Great

Po

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