Measured Decay of the Body Politic

We're all born to a world of wonder and weakness.

Canker in the rose, still enthorned,
engorged to tasting vital life, enrapt;
enraged, in love and beating like a heart,
aglow with sunfire, corpseheart, wormwood...

There's something rotten in the state of...
Well; the state. The wreck of the Union,
the ruin of the dream.
(And we know how you love your precious dream)
A manifest destiny of death from,
shore to shore, succumbing to disease,
decay and rot. The body fails.

Treatmeants? Surgeries? Panaceas, cures?
Bring in your witchdoctors and physicians,
summon me your aid, it will do no good.
The apple lodged in my throat,
choking, worm-ridden, tell me, please;
Why is knowledge so bittersweet?

Like cocktails most foul (As best they are),
of Wolfsbane, Foxglove, Belladonna.
Knocking back your poison like whiskey,
burning toxins like opium laced with venom
(And they say they all taste like ice cream)
The brain is in danger, overheating; burnout.
Maybe we sould stop. Give in. Cut down. Cool off.
Release? Surrender? Quitter, always so, so weak

Did you make me weak?
Or did I just erode, corrode, corrupt-
So long ago?
To dust, this body goes...

Reviews

[Dianah]

What a fascinating poem.The title intrigued me. Some bit's are reminiscent of Keats. yes definately reminds me of the Romantic poets and their experiments with plants !