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America, the degenerate
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America, the degenerate |
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Elliott Junior Member
since 2000-04-06
Posts 35Chapel Hill, NC |
And the son turned to his father to ask, ‘Upon what rock does patience gather When air is taken, and it is no longer Able to breathe, nor life conceive Within the torrents of the cold rain shower?’ His reply: ‘We shall see, for I sense Days ahead where many a head will vanish, perhaps Beneath this very rock, inside the dust Settled within the cracks.’ And so along this road they walked… When grey snow falls it covers the land, And the palm of your hand Holds scars you never knew were there Until they are rubbed, raw and bleeding. The men stood in the flat fields, digging the graves of their brothers Whom they dreamed once walked among the waist-high weeds; I sat on a distant hill and I dreamed, and then I cried. ‘Were you there when He made the earth and the skies?’ I asked the man with the cemetery eyes, ‘And did you see how you came to be, A small breath in eternity?’ My friend, There was a time not long ago when you and I walked down that road together, yet I know not where I may begin to speak of what is eating my heart from the outside in. We came from a place, a strange little place, A land with an excess of light which troubles the spirit and weakens the sight. We came from this place beneath this brown earth, Beneath its surface, guided by something which we could not see; and in our hands we could feel the dust from which we came to be- We saw humanity in the womb of God (the closest I suspect I’ll ever be). We met faces without names, and, expecting more of the same we instead became poets in the dusty streets. How sad that today in these worn out retreats we find nothing to think or feel, Muttering small talk at the walls, roaming the halls where there gather the tired generations who speak of the dead as if they never lived. Lead me down- This town is getting cold and People look down while walking by, It’s not like the way I was told. No one speaks, no one listens, no one sees. Today: You lost yourself in the fuzzy, gray beard of a prophet clad in white, You met patience and turned her away, out to the street, You ate the flesh of a beast that cried loudly in your belly, You feared the black man who served you your dinner, -You never asked him his name. It ate me alive. It ate me out from inside. These days: We travel lightly, the air is getting warmer, we gesture slightly. The songs that they sing are the songs of the crotch. Loud noise: Their joy now comes in two dimensions on the TV screen. It is almost the twenty first century. The rain keeps fallin’, and the water’s risin’. -------------------------------- copyright Nov. 1999 by D.E.M. [This message has been edited by Elliott (edited 04-11-2000).] |
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| © Copyright 2000 Elliott - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Broken_Winged_Angel Senior Member
since 2000-04-06
Posts 994Small Town, Somewhere |
Very thought provoking... MAY THE ROAD RISE TO MEET YOU, MAY THE WIND BE ALWAYS AT YOUR BACK MAY THE SUN SHINE UPON YOUR FACE THE RAINS FALL SOFT UPON YOUR FIELDS AND, UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN, MAY GOD HOLD YOU IN THE PALM OF HIS HAND Irish Blessing |
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Munda Member Elite
since 1999-10-08
Posts 3544The Hague, The Netherlands |
Sounds like your predicting "dooms day" to me. Like how you expressed it though. |
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twinsgd Member
since 2000-02-13
Posts 416Ontario,Canada |
Thought provoking indeeed Elliott. I believe since time immemorial there were always "These days"........fire, the wheel, the gun, the bomb, etc. etc. The more things change the more they remain the same. Jack |
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Elliott Junior Member
since 2000-04-06
Posts 35Chapel Hill, NC |
hmmm, i'm not really sure why you guys think it's a doomsday poem, 'cause that's not really what i had in mind. i wrote it soon after i returned from doing mission work abroad, and i had the unique opportunity of viewing the U.S. from a different perspective, after living abroad for a period. needless to say, i was a little disillusioned with what i saw. thanks for the input! |
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