My conscious persona No longer exudes Fragmentation of self There is merely the one And the love that eludes him
By Michael Brandon Marchese3 years ago in Poets
Long ago a creature Of a far more primal sort, Not fit to deem itself “a people” Lived a nasty, brutish, short Existence marked
Behold my stentorian roar Peroration In vehement, bellicose Vituperation Verbose in its prose Overdose inclination
The me revolution Is patient and passive Inside it amasses A gathering rage In a riotous tempest At bay, kept away
I would have gave you the sun And the moon And the stars The skies and the seas And the world would be ours I'd make them all bow
You have to let the thinkers think The dreamers dream The speakers speak The schemers scheme The wolves among us feast on sheep
These Andean summits As high as the sky Were where I once nested Beyond them I'd fly And I'd shadow the valleys
They made it seem like Love was more than enough Like two people who fall in it Never rebuff All the time Perhaps even
If you think that it’s fated Just go ‘head and state it Just say that you stayed All too long In awaiting For me to be
Suppose I should have warned you We're impossible to kill Composed of paragraphs Our bodies are The pages that we fill
On the verge of total war When will you people learn How many children need to die How many have to burn Before we raze our flags in peace
My archetypal anima Could dream a billion dreams Yet none elucidate my psyche’s Shadow self-esteem It yearns to be made whole again