Tuesday, January 17, 2012

The Seed

Life was thin and breakable,
as I recall,
those days of immortality,
under optimism’s dangling branch.

The gathering at City Park on
lazy afternoons, consecrated eddies
of overstated philosophers, criminal
renegades, and misguided loyalty.

The ghosts of a troubled past
gnawed at my self-inflicted radiance,
coercing my over-ripened pride
and self-indulgent reprimand.

Aldus Huxley and Southern Comfort
my impervious barricade, buttons laced
with strychnine, tequila to bite back the
aftertaste and zigzag horizons,

I marched against a failing wind and
was met by iron bars, I loved my
land in betrayal, a paradox laced in
cold steel decapitating my pride.

Life was thin and breakable,
as I recall,
to gain acceptance undoubtedly
meant compliance, still, my shell
slowly became overcrowded.

Years had passed before I could
gather up once again and fight
for right, yet I fear I am stained
for eternity, a seed lost forever.

© 2009/jdr

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