123 words
The Goal is a Blown Candle
Nothing
shields us,
nothing steals
from the blade
that we face.
I have seen
the butterfly
circle
its prey.
My prayers
want
for nothing.
My only offering
to the gods
is time at the helm
of unbending
knees.
That
is the whole
of the law.
The goal
is a blown
candle.
* * *
Play Ball
Sometimes
we only
catch hell because
there’s no other ball
in play.
That’s when you
bring out
the dead leaves,
and let the truth
run riot.
After all, some of us
are always either
picking fights like flowers,
or harboring a brawl
that never goes
to blows.
Sometimes
you only have to ask
yourself
What’s a little
chin music
when the bill comes
due?
1 comment
Somebody has to do an anthology of modern right wing poetry. The best modern poetry I see is on counter-currents.
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