Further, could we?

A poem I wrote 4 years ago.

I have never said I am innocent
Nor flaunt I am grudgeless.
Truth be said,
I am none-doing of more than vile.

If humanity really cares
Then why hate and love still?
And in its shaded pitless self it dwells
Waiting, cursing, wanting, hissing...

All sentient, hence, are wanderers-
Discombobulated, lost the Knowledge
For they blindly gulped and munched
Those aphorisms left unmouthed by theirs.

Could we forget more?
Could we neck the Truth more?
Could we undermine ourselves more?
Could we? Further?

 

Author's Note

'Tis a product of having coffee alone stuck in a cafe behind a glass window whilst people pass by oblivious of this probe against and for them (us).

Reviews

[Helen]

This is definitely one that should be read out loud as spoken word poetry rather than read of a white page or computer screen. It has a depth and a power to it, as if it carries a message of great importance. It would be good to hear the poet read it as it was meant to be read.

[Peter H]

shade of an impartial writer nice :)

[Frieda P]

I read this with religious undertones, perhaps we need to get out of our way. Those of us who are still conscious anyway. Nice one Day's Eye.

[The Daisy]

You're right Frieda. It is just that people nowadays are more focused on mundane things.

[Baby Ricochet]

A poem of existential questions. Good job

[The Daisy]

Thanks, Baby Ricochet.