Death of An Idea
death of an idea
some where sitting
in my easy chair
to watch the news.
tsk tsk ’s rolling off my tongue
traveling in the opposite direction
to my finely prepared coffee.
i am a phoney in all.
what is seen and heard,
truly repulses me; it is inhuman
or is it too human.
I cogitate munching a sweet biscuit.
a twinkling of an idea tries to be born
but its smashed with
a million reasons, “why not”
safe here keeping my sword
in its stone. too old, deserve this rest.
fought my battles
got the scars to prove it.
those scars are healed.
too frightened is the truth!
pacify with, not the only one
wait until some one else speaks up
but is that all?
just wait and swallow
the empathy choking strangling life
with a secretive smugness.
speak out
as we each, given the words to speak,
slide them under the poetic door, unseen.
Copyright © Patricia Cresswell | Year Posted 2017
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