Another Broken Poem for inspiration. A good one this time, I think.
the sunlight
the war's long over
wings of gold
but why didn't you take my money
sick of everything
but it is not right
getting better than ever
leaving this will be easier
& the moonlight seemed fake
I slam the screen
kill your dog
& my father, never a good man
fried eggs, boiled eggs, poached eggs
the best writers have said very little
3 comments:
You know with this post you are unwittingly forcing me into writing some non-sensical poetry. I have been trying very hard, however not to. Urmm...
This one was worth hitting the broken poem button repeatedly. Loved the flow, makes no sense but it does, makes you smile if nothing else.
I think you should have taken all of the credit for this poem. :)
I was looking at this thing tonight and got stuck on that first line...
Sunlight
The war's been over
long in finding this path
between pride
and grasping,
that slender golden way
to contritely say, I’m sorry
for the mess, the mistakes–
we could hire an army
of maids, ship in our best
take out, deliver a fleet
of mobile homes, but in the mean
time while we’re all waiting
without a whimper, we’ll just–
load up our toys,
the tanks and guns,
disarm our bombs, the dirty
and the smart ones,
so they can’t harm
the innocent or anyone,
pack up our Humvees
like some red-blooded
upwardly mobile Americans
off on spring break.
And oh yes, we’ll return
the sun in the morning
with Congressional approval.
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