There is a dance made from the angles of years of our time,
unlike the measured walk the confidence of youth bestows;
it is the waltz of dying.
While we dance, our honesty is being measured against our crimes,
resignation watches as recognition grows,
leaving another child crying.
He writes of tigers tearing at him, help that never arrives,
as only some small fraction of his fate;
of blows still thudding home every now and then
as mere details, surprised to be still alive.
Still to endure torment and punishments; still running late;
still to know all that is coming, just never sure when.
This day is marked as cursed, like the rest since then,
already weak facade is slipping.
Fatigue, that poor parasite, rudely cuts in.
This instinct to give in is in its simple way convincing;
the scale of life is tipping;
doors to other passages remain shut to him.
Instructions urgently whispered, right out loud;
surgically altered listeners pretend not to hear.
When the sandcastle virtues are inevitably washed away;
the murkiest decisions can seem perfectly clear.
The hardening of resolve has lent to him small eloquence,
while the scale of his belittlement paradoxically has grown.
A terrible shock, a fact of life, unavoidable consequence;
if it was not actually an accident never will be known.
Like iron under acid, some long ghastly demise,
stumbling away but get drawn back yet again to the whips,
to impress, somehow, a god he really never did believe in?
This waltz with your own weeping is seen by mostly curious eyes
as what once had been gear driven now has a belt that slips;
by then you had given out way more than you received,
and failed yet again in spite of many furious tries.
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Author:
Dan Williams (
Offline) - Published: August 16th, 2024 00:37
- Comment from author about the poem: More in my collection of pessimists dreams. I have tried to write less dismally, then the world sneaks in again.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 10
Offline)
Comments5
You are absolutely write .. this must surely be the mother of all pessimistic dreams .. blame it on the world why don'tcha .. I don't suppose the cheese has anything to do with it ..
Uh, cheese?
Tigers Tearing, what frightful dreams you have. Fortunately for me , my dreams are
far less troublesome Dan. I hope your dreams don’t linger with you all day. An interesting and descriptive write, very imaginative. Have a happy Friday.
This is from a particularly stressful period, and for better or worse that is when I tend to write. Years of double and swing shifts have teamed having with my sleep cycle, don't dream that much any more. Thank you, as always.
Not to worry. You are too kind. Now my scariest dreams are about the sad pathetic state of this once great country; one of these two will be the most powerful person in the world? Egad.
Grim, mate.
OK so maybe a little. I should stress that while my political doom saying is still in full force, this personal stuff is old news.
Dan this reads clearly and is full of vivid images. As you asked I will give one hint. Less is more see if you can condense the full meaning of each line into fewer words. Loved the message and only include the suggestion because you asked.
I did ask, and thanks. I tend to slip into rant but am working on it.
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