- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Waste
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From my balcony, it seems to me
that the gifts that we've been given
are burnt or broken casually
in the times in which we're livin'
The irony, the irony
of our everlasting feasts.
We're killing Mother Earth
by being beasts.
As I cut off my sprouting wings
I saw the charms of breaking things.
- COMMENTS
PoissonSurLaLunealmost 13 years agoI really liked the themes of this poem: the loss of idealism, cynical hedonism, the creeping disaster of materialism. Some of the passages seemed a bit forced, which pulled me out of the theme but I still voted a five.
To Simply Me: I kind of interpreted that last couplet as betraying the angelic idealism of the narrator (the winged being on an elevated balcony) and giving into the temptation of being one of the people who "breaks" things with their wanton excess. It's wrong, but highly pleasurable.
simply__mealmost 13 years agolike the opening the best. The end rhymes are good, but I don't exactly get the last phrase that blew away the other commentor. I took is as referring to as you age and learn, the pain of what you now notice causes distress.
CrownofJulesalmost 13 years agoYou added those last two lines and knocked me out of my chair!
That is what it was missing. I want to consume those two lines. I want them tattooed on my body. Between my battered wings.
*heart*
Lighta, Peace & Smile <3
