Listless

Wrote this on my Ipod!

You sit fingers,

In mine, perhaps

A little loosely-

When you take our passion

Into account.

You are reading.

“The Times,”

I have the sports page in front

Of me and a coffee in my hand,

 

“Bemoaning England Cricket again

I see.

Strauss and Cook make 16

And not much more between them.

The shame and Strauss the Captain.”

 

Eyes wide, (Listen/listen....

 

Disaster they say.

A natural disaster,

Bodies strewn, strewn

Everywhere. Strewn listlessly

Still.

Bodies torched, trapped under rubble.

Think what horror-

A fiery burial for the dead

Mothers birthing in the street...)

 

“Oh the agony, the Aussies reckon-

The ashes will be theirs again,

Strewth!

We’ve had them for how long?

Six months!”

 

(Are you listening?

God what goes on in that head?)

 

“I assure you I was attentive.

As always-

Fiery burial you say?

Births out on the pavements?

Bodies buried under rubble?

Burning?

Children crying?

Without mothers I expect!

Starving I’d dare say!

But still-

Little does it affect you!

“The Times,” you have with

Breakfast.

“The Evening Standard,” with

Tea!

What else could you want?

What else would you need?”

 

(What a fool, you are sometimes!

We sit round,

The three mad dames of

Fortune telling at your side!

Disaster proof are you?

Have a little compassion!

You used to!

Or if compassion fails you

At least ask one of three!)

 

Meagre sightless Tiresias sits

Coffee in one palm, spoon in the other

Stirring blindly. Refusing to see me,

I’d hazard at a guess.

I expect he knows what I’m after.

 

“No, no! I shan’t tell you that.”

 

Perhaps then Madame Sosostris,

Famous clairvoyant in all her glory.

Lost her vicious deck of cards she has.

Crying!

 

“No No No, my cards Blank!

They’ve all gone blank, perhaps!

Have I? Perhaps, I’ve gone blind-

Like that old wrinkled fool.

No, no, fool I can’t speak now”

 

Fool of hot air anyway, she is!

 

And Esther the prophet.

One of seven they say!

Piously she sits, arms erect

Praying.

For what has been?

For what is to be?

Who knows...

 

“Heavenly Father,

Heavenly Father,

Forgive me/forgive us!

Etc. Etc. Etc.”

 

 

Compassion!

Who needs it?

I have you,

With errant curls
Playing games across your face,
How pale and freckled it is....

 

 

(Fiery burial!

Births out on the pavements!

Bodies buried under rubble!

Burning!

Children crying!

Without mothers I expect!

Starving I’d dare say!

Horror!

The agony!

Have compassion!

Please?!)

Author's Note

Constructive Destruction pretty please

Reviews

[heido]

Compassion!

Who needs it?

I have you,

With errant curls
Playing games across your face,
How pale and freckled it is....


This says it for me, it is our RELATIONSHIPS with eachother that influences our focus, our cares, our concerns. If I am tragically in love and focus only on that love, than yes I will forget the rest of my inhumane world coming down around me in natural disasters and genocide. BUT if I immerse myself in activists who are focused on bettering humanity, will than I will eventually even if I try to resist, become more focused on the betterment of humanity.

[AtticusBlack]

wasn't what I was expecting, but that's a good thing, such a dark piece between the lines really, I love the basic description of you with your paper and your coffee, with her next to you, it's quite heart warming, but then the poem changes. Really good read.

[Mary]

i liked it, it was very deep and covered issues that people don't tend to talk about much. It made me think but i will admit i was a little confused but i think that is my fault not yours:)

[Alicante lullaby]

witty write,,,Haiti,kashmir quake,ahmadabad,tsaunami,,,disasters around us and we,,,good people sit in our cozy warm houses indifferent,,,,Allah;should have a doomsday now,,,,humanity has rigor mortis,,,soon corpse will decay,,,