Faith edges in wearing only thin slippers.
Tyranny in combat boots arrives, boasting,
coveting the view from the cheap seats
where acrimony these days is rampant.
Roll of dice in winnerless contest,
prizes of heartache, sorrow and despair.
Failure not imagined yet, not concealed,
in plain sight not yet revealed.
Games of uncertainty, calamity,
players naked and tethered,
awake enough during small pauses in insomnia
to see the line waiting to carry that cross.
One was cut, the other bleeding
as life and death shook hands
to survey the distant coast of sanity
where paranoia thrives and vengeance lurks.
Progress with its permanent smirk
has condensed liberty to a sideshow.
Justice, asleep at the traffic light,
where broken stone tablets litter the scene.
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Author:
Dan Williams (
Offline) - Published: July 1st, 2026 03:16
- Comment from author about the poem: Struggling to express hoe glad I am to be old.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments5
Lmao 🤣
Great read
Love how the broken tablets punctuated this. I caught a glimpse of Charlton Heston’s grim visage as he smashed the tablets per Cecil B. deMille’s direction. 🙏🏻🕊️
"as life and death shook hands" a lovely line and the metaphor of the last line "where broken stone tablets litter the scene." leaves a biblical taste and meaning. It is a commentary on human so called progress and living that is dark and self depreciatory. Well written
Dan, this really moved me. The imagery is stark and memorable throughout, from faith in slippers to justice asleep at the traffic light. Together they create a world where ideals struggle beneath the weight of power, making the closing image especially haunting. Beautifully crafted, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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