Felled autumn leaves On wet ground For rot to work With welcoming soil Whilst winds blow Bringing the rain into it Tempting wiggle worms Which will reap The good nutrients left And give dark soil A velvet feel A rich man’s smell. For in the gardener Awakens a worker Keen to sow: And mature seed Will rise in bloom And stringed birds Serenade boon botany In la primavera All that is decomposing Rotting leaves Their yellow is gold Their black is carbon They’ve left behind Standing skeletons For kids to climb For sunshine to reveal What secret habits Autumns leave.
The anxious bark at suburbs given to alienation, Bark at the morally weak who suck in virtue, And barkers bark at unknown cads Who steal flowers from shattered graves. Lonely bureaucrats bark at keyboards they strike, The switch of the ultra-powerless, Their plaintive words seasoned with spite. How they bark at paperwork deadline manipulated. For who is it that understands frustration? Check-outs bark at wealth jumping millionaires, Whose free space is wilder than wisdom. Bark, bark at the barkers barking back. Barking at bloody crosses to which believers cling. Barking, disturbed ones, until fate guts their sting. Bark, the angry ones, spitting words at shadows. Barkers bark, lest defeat intervenes and cripples.
Comments
Post a Comment