New Poetry of the "In Silence"
Without our names.
Those moments that you deem perfect
Fade like an old over worn belt
Donned around the waist of time
Underneath the shinned leather
Is the gray fabric called Shame
And this, we all wear delicately
Even when referring our past
When we were ivory deities—
But no one recalls our memories
They have sailed away down stream
Into a small pond full of dreams,
Delusions of grandeur, and moments
We are left up stream, in silence
Left only with our nightmares,
The acceptance of obscurity,
And time traveling around us
While we are harnessed to a rock
Where we die a little more each day
Only to rise the very next
And wait to be torn apart again
By an eagle. Or maybe vulture
As the historical record
Fades and is carefully rewritten
Without our names.
© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.
About Me
No one will read of me.
About me no one
Will ever wonder.
My existence?
Purely negligible.
I am the small cog
In the American
Dream machine
Limping home every night
Defeated again
Defeated again.
© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved
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1 comment:
Oi, achei teu blog pelo google tá bem interessante gostei desse post. Quando der dá uma passada pelo meu blog, é sobre camisetas personalizadas, mostra passo a passo como criar uma camiseta personalizada bem maneira. Até mais.
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