Horsefeathers
The genuine of simplicity is the wishing will,
arouses the splendor in content of still.
The scattering stories are matter of a baggage,
becomes the chant proclaiming the stage in savage.
Those torn loose ends to know by the breathe,
finding pleasure in the cruelest advice beneath.
The act of harsh or sweet in shallow warm,
tormented insecurities latching to reform.
That trying again, and once again, to rise,
smoking, drinking, manipulation in disguise.
When moody blinded self-absorption is out on bail,
becoming the shadows trapped in a flapping sail.
By the antiquity to proof with intellectual sight,
every heartbeat trebled to change heavens might.
That most rare conception of all nothing,
and its consequences with its swinging sting.
The cry for righteous freedom in darkening eclipse,
the haunted space by nemesis in grips.
Bearing witness to the poor admitted heart,
in social convention is the holy phony art.
The delicate web of human trust,
emphatic rapture in airy fabrication and its dust.
The lying gambles played every day,
holding and keeping what is not have anyway.
The embodiment of all that despise,
the puppeteer and its disguise.
Pegasus flight thru the storm looses some feather,
mythology is the living breath altogether.
Copyright © Robert Rittel | Year Posted 2020
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