The Mezunian

Die Positivität ist das Opium des Volkes, aber der Spott ist das Opium der Verrückten

Die Herbstzeiten eines Volkes

Accompanying music:

Ich möchte dich festhalten —

weicher Atem, schlagendes Herz;

während ich in dein Ohr flüstere,

ich will dich verdammt auseinander reißen.

You gorgeous gothic autumn withered firs

put on the perfect play for these uneasy zephyrs

round this o’ercrowded theater I attend.

Marvel as I push past

too many poems for this tired eye to render —

crowd maple feathers with their rockin’ letters

crying for ’ttention on these building signs &

uncomfortable cars, their neck-ache news screws tightened —

akin to pallored skin on fretting lightning —

a swoonful, sure, but omens ill inviting

as the smoke spread by my unspoken words

creep up to kill the sky without a thought.

Too much abundent love will smother us

with floods o’ sun. But I don’t dare stop —

Posted in Metered, Poetry