Monday, 30 March 2020

And So

And so I sat me down to write:
Such fear and scorn, such bit-hard hate,
Had drilled my chest with gouge and bite
That wave-swelled anger poured in spate.

A Christian culture quite destroyed,
Invading satraps rack the land;
Displaced, my rooted life made void,
I drift the badlands’ bush and sand.

That which I was or wished to be,
Heart’s tangle with a sweet-life mate,
Were spoiled by coup, made worse by me,
Reduced to scratchings on a slate.

Now youth is gone and age conspires,
Bent bones and sweepings no one wants,
A world in self like untuned lyres
Is flung to scrap with thrones and fonts.

Oh, rage indeed whilst rage you can:
Mind-sore, these dunes my polity,
I squat in reeds and boil my bran,
Defunct beside the snarling sea.

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© October 2015