Friday, July 25, 2014

Eliot still

by Roberto Lavidez

the heavy
burden
of the
growing soul
perplexes
and offends
more
day by day
cry
what shall
I cry
cry like
a parrot
chatter
like an ape
in the
beginning
was the word
o when
will the
creaking
heart
cease
end of
the endless
journey
to no end
with the
voices
singing
in our ears
saying that
this was
all folly
we must
be still
and still
moving
into another
intensity
red
sullen faces
sneer and
snarl from
doors of
mudcracked
houses
the notion
of some
infinitely
gentle
infinitely
suffering
thing
timeless and
undesiring
except in
the aspect
of time
to have
squeezed
the universe
into a ball
to keep our
metaphysics
warm
although
I do not hope
although
I do not hope
to turn
the perpetual
struggle
of good
and evil
this thing
does not
change
through
attenuated
tones of
violins
thought
clings round
dead limbs
tightening
its lusts
and luxuries
there will be
time to murder
and create
no will
is still as
a river still
between
the emotion
and the
response
falls the
shadow
pray for us
sinners
now and at
the hour of
our death
flesh and
blood
is weak
and frail
under sleep
where all
the waters
meet
memory
throws up
high and
dry
a crowd
of twisted
things
as the
mind
deserts
the body
it has used
observing
that hysteria
might easily be
misunderstood
if the
lost word
is lost
if the
spent word
is spent...
why should
I need
to keep it

©robertolavidez2014















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