Battle Cry

Battle Cry

A Poem by Crowley

It's not the ones and zero's 

It's the blaze of recognition that mother always knows

Upon the field where gamesmanship is petty and fraught

I stop and feel presence of the one lonely tree

And realize the underpinnings of forever and a day

 

How can I disconnect from shallow perception

Turn to the river that sleep and dreams slowly sketch

Look into the eyes of another, that's not another

And communicate with a glance that we are root and branch

You say the sunset is on fire with crimson fury, purple lust

A battle cry that loses meaning as night washes the palette clean

 

 

© 2023 Crowley


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Reviews

This is Life's battlefields, always the worst, always the unforgivable. Time keeps ringing the same near corruptible sounds, become a furious and perpetual argument with right and wrong, reality and make-believe. Perhaps it is all a sham created by those who thought they knew how and better.What a joke!
Your words exude power and thought, Crowley!

Posted 7 Months Ago




who knows what happens on the battlefield .. they say what happens there, stays there .. but then who knows for sure .. this made me shiver some .. N

Posted 7 Months Ago


I'm caught on the line...turn to the river...maybe its just my snag...

Posted 7 Months Ago


Crowley

7 Months Ago

I see you...Hope you are well Q!! Thank you for the visit.
We/ they/ it and any other pronouns I've forgot to mention were all once truly connected, when we were once one with nature.
I don't know what started the disconnect, but I do find it ironic that the Internet and broadband, things made to bring us together have fractures our reality into thinking that likes and videos of cats on YouTube have only made us more "ME ME ME!" and glued our eyes to our screens in the hope of any updates on how "special" we all are, without realising that if we are ALL special, doesn't that make us all normal?
I'm only asking because Alexa took out a restraining order for asking her so many times "Watcha wearin'?" 😊

Posted 9 Months Ago


He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day. I guess the sun is no different and needs a vacation from the stress of always having to be so bright and cheerful. A delightful poem about connections and perspective.

Posted 10 Months Ago



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128 Views
5 Reviews
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Added on July 2, 2023
Last Updated on July 2, 2023

Author

Crowley
Crowley

Phoenix, AZ



About
Like to hang out with other writers and see what's what. Have met a lot of good people on this and other sites through the years. Decided to come back and do a little posting and reading. Hit me up i.. more..

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