- Non-Erotic Poetry
- it's just talk
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Stand in judgement, look away
from the piss-stained man and his broken bottle
to the blue tarp where in silent grief
the broken man dares only dream in vacant screams.
Listen to the hate, on vacant aires such an endless display
how to the other and how we hobble
those who do not stare in modest disbelief
and where nothing, not even the most innocent scheme, is ever what it seems.
It is an endless torment, and always in dismay
we turn from the pitiless stares of our gathering jackals
counting out rich man poor man beggar man thief
all humble now and cast in bronze on worn down knees.
Once their was truth, before words of decay
found out a hollowed land oh so craving newer shackles
while even in dreams there came no relief
and so cast to the shadowlands once again, he waits with Diogenes.
© 2023 adrian leverkühn | abw | just a few words scattered here and there…
- COMMENTS
Boyd Percy11 months agoGood poem! I see broken, homeless people panhandling. Though I give them some money, I know they will be again the next day.
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