Man

Where can I begin with such a thing

as the contradiction that is man?

Do I start at the top looking down

or start off disgusted at his feet

walking away from his shameful stand?

Do I concentrate on his highness

or just go with the flow of his might?

Do I check any of my senses

or cede to seeing his basic stance?

Do I substantiate every inch

or recall some of his achievements?

Do I listen to his tactless heart

or try to reverse its course with song?

I never loved you much before

I may love you when it’s called for.

Do I forewarn him, I love you not

or quickly implore him to depart?

Do I test his skin for secret spots

or let my ears discern his design

on anything that should be withdrawn?

Do I think of foolish Romeo

or delve in his bloody dynasty?

What do I do with this hardest wall

from stone to iron to guillotine?

What can I do, my champion of gore?

Hate lasts as long as your mind’s own talk

dispatched directly instead of love.

Poets of truth are the exception.