Written unexpectedly a few weeks ago because I worry and also hold a low opinion for those who it behooves to play the part of what they are not.
Wind Bag
Pretends he’s enlightened
When the light barely flicks
He will sprinkle his musings
With some few choice-word picks
The soul of an artist?
I think not, no way
His clumsy conclusions
Barely mask what they may
From within threatening aura
An abuser implies
What she sees in this fool
While the truth she denies
Cook up the fictions
And set out to sail
The picture might focus
Into fullest detail
A surface illusion
And the warnings seem clear
In the bounce that she’s taken
There is much she should fear
Copyright SGW 2009
2 comments:
i have been among those that choose blindness over seeing.. i know i would return there if given the opportunity,, and it is for that very reason i remain alone....
glad you posted this... i need to see it thru someone else's eyes sometimes......
This is one thing I truly enjoy about being a poet. I would not have thought to tie this piece to you in anyway, yet you have chosen to see in the feminine part of these lines yourself, and that intrigues me.
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