Thursday, July 17, 2014

extra Pound

by Roberto Lavidez

what is
the use
of talking
and there
is no end
of talking
our mind
is full of
sorrow
who will
know of
our grief
I have
weathered
the storm
I have
beaten out
my exile
through
all the
wood
and the
leaves
are full
of voices
quite out
of place
amid
resistance
to current
exacerbations  
a day
when the
historians
left blanks
in their
writings
the grand
piano
utters
a profane
protest
with her
soprano
the bull
runs blind
on the
sword
his lone
might
against
all darkness
opposing
the still
stone dogs
caught in
metamorphosis
in valleys
winding down
toward
the sea
amid the
slaves
learning
slavery
some
in fear
learning
love of
slaughter
at morning
there are
flowers
to cut
the heart
to sing
one thing
when your
song
means
another
and things
growne   
awry
like
a dog
that has
lost
his owner
bewildered
that a
world
shows no
surprise
let us
take arms
against
this sea
of stupidities
there is no
high-road
to the muses

©robertolavidez2014


















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