51

51

A Poem by Ana B.

I dropped the Conscience while I was fleeing

The Celestial Temple of Cogitation.

Mind has done enough sightseeing

Of the silent Anarchy’s gestation…

Its coordinates has many doorways

And yet folks stay clear out of the Mud

But oh, the precious Humanity has always

Had its tree roots soaked in blood.


Brooks Salzwedel (Californian artist) - Unique Drawings

 

 

 


© 2017 Ana B.



Author's Note

Ana B.

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Reviews

Humans and conflict ... an ugly marriage indeed and yet here we are ... hanging out at level one because as a mass we cannot seem to shift our consciousness up to level two ... age old issue you have addressed here X

Posted 1 Year Ago


Ana B.

1 Year Ago

indeed, seems like Earth is a particular purgatory for those being that operate on a higher level :).. read more
The beauty we hold in our hands came at a great price. A hidden tax. Upon the history of broken backs. We skip stones on the lake of blood. A lovely stain.

Enjoyed your poem. Thanks for sharing.

Posted 1 Year Ago


Ana B.

1 Year Ago

Thank you for this Joe :)

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Added on September 5, 2017
Last Updated on September 8, 2017


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