Dying the slow death of political infection,
it hides within our words
As we try to run, and try to hide,
its plague a constant scourge
Poisoning the water, despoiling our thoughts,
all freedom it commands
Directing the folly, conscripting all joy
—our blindfold it demands
(Dreamsleep: August, 2019)
Heaven Sent
Religion…my writing,
all faith in the pen
My savior the words
—the Muse heaven sent
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
The Price
Is blood,
the price of art
Is death,
the price of truth
A rose,
its thorn uncovered
And love
—the price of youth
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
-
Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: August 30th, 2019 09:38
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 27
- User favorite of this poem: Laura🌻.
Offline)
Comments2
Kurt,
God bless your
‘Heaven Sent’ Muse!🤗
~Laura~
And blessings to you...
🙏🏻
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.