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Poetry Magnum Opus

Sense of Scale


dr_con

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1.3.2020 Sense of Scale

May the inability to sleep after
the middle of the night go down
in history as a premonition of some
future Peace not an infestation of aging
related thoughts about blood work weight
strength ability to perform to-do to-be
to-become; let all those self-fulfilling
worries and anxieties simply Be
the last sense a Mountain’s
last pebble has before
ceaseless Waves
return it

to endless Sand
Emerging from morning’s
practice heard through the
techtonic-ear at the tip
of the index finger
the bullies-of-war
and their school -
yard lackeys

have decided decided
they have had enough
of Practice and Play
Have risen from 
vivisectionist
Sandboxes

(strewn to overflowing
with the still wet bones
of civilizations) deciding
Their Practice has made 
them perfect Perfectly
ready to end it all

Meanwhile while shopping
(to prevent any thought
hypocrisy is not
et-ernalised)
to make
better choices
realize substituting 
‘Humans’ for ‘Troops’
gives a horrifying
Sense of Scale.

 

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Hey Folks last poem I'll post for the month - Back to doing a poem a day, but trying to respect the 3 a month limit here. May you all be safe and comfortable! The coming Storm piece was my first attempt at kinda drawing a line in the sand- Had a feeling things were about to get much much stranger and unfortunately they have.

 

Juris

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1 hour ago, dr_con said:

Back to doing a poem a day, but trying to respect the 3 a month limit here.

Juris, it's not really three per month, it's three per week, and we're not too strict with it. :wink: In any case, I hope to get to this one over the weekend.

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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Most of your poems have this incredibly restless, agitated, obsessive-compulsive, thinking-gone-wild fretfulness about them!

Visited by chillingly true thoughts such as

Quote

...substituting 
‘Humans’ for ‘Troops’
gives a horrifying
Sense of Scale.

it's no wonder.

Quote

let all those self-fulfilling
worries and anxieties simply Be
the last sense a Mountain’s
last pebble has before
ceaseless Waves
return it

to endless Sand

How wonderfully expressed! Ah, I would love to spend more time in those Waves, that Sand!

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Agree with Baez, those last lines are disturbingly chilling.

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