Heart of Darkness
They were inspired by the
mystery, the heart of darkness,
the stage of their world.
I look about; nothing --
not the embedded, serene midnight
of the South, twinkling stars
and the fragrance of jasmine blooms --
not the bustling fish markets,
or the quaint colonial houses
of the North, with crashing rocky shores --
not the secrets of the Midwest, the
massive plains, the snaking rivers --
no, there's nothing inexplicable
about the omnipresent smog,
the dirty, trashed beaches,
the high prices, the overpopulation.
We are `blessed' with stars
for millions of dollars, to compensate
for the clogged, dark sky.
I've only walked down the street
of stars, handprints, and footprints
once. Fear of thievery, rape, and whatnot
held my parents. Streets at night
are not safe. It's a Darwinian hell --
institutionalized, sooty, and damp,
thrashed by germ-infested hands.
Revolted by the paradox of dirtied cleanliness,
it's hard to search for proper inspiration.
The glimpse of the moon, or the
bloodied reflection of the sunset
on the gloom, are snatches of light
to transform into poetry.
aquarisea
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╭─╮╭╮ ╭╮╮ ╭╮
│╰╯│╰╮╭╭╮│ │╭─╮╭ ╮│╰╮"At the touch of love everyone
╭╮││ ╯││││ │╭ │││││ ╯ becomes a poet."
╰─╯╰╰╯╰─│╰╯╯╰╰╯╰╰╯╰╰╯ -- Plato
───── ╰─╯ ─────────── http://darkshadows.org/~skyhawk ─
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