I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
We hunt and gather With our instincts more ancient Than the marketplace
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
Many fear the oppressive narrative The tale as tyrant, irresistible; Full of directives bold, imperative Molding minds with its hand, invisible
Battles against doubt Fatigue and despair are won By courageous hearts
Standardized testing Teaches you to remember To avoid thinking
Gossip and rumor and innuendo Have always beguiled and befuddled us But the present age makes it hard to know What is true or false or fit to discuss
I am growing old Just as the rules become clear The game is ending
Give the law some thought Study its dark lacunae Then fill them with light
I'm a bad idea Walking into a cafe Thanks to a flawed map
Some contemporary minds seem so smug Dismissing the soul as a quaint, old myth Sweeping sublime strangeness under the rug
Spurn the pious fraud Who loudly proclaims his faith And worships himself
In the cells of every small, caged pet Lurks the biography of a monster Clever primates are so quick to forget How little then and now really differ
Who determines the cost of betrayal? How highly do we value loyalty? Should the traitor expect a portrayal Sympathetic, or marked by great beauty?
