Stronger Than Death

We argued until the cows came home and lived in a city
Hardly ever even agreed to disagree and never budged an inch
There was always an If and or definite But and resolute No

			Your hair is too long and untidy
		In frazzled jeans you look like a hobo
	When you are my age you’ll know I am right
Grow up I don’t not like your attitude

So many points to state and so few dots in a full circle of
Arguments discussion battles and irreconcilable opinions

I do not approve of the fact that you are a General
	Soldiers are potential murderers in uniform
		Put a peace dove onto your epaulettes then
			We’ll find common ground olive branches

But our common terrain was trenches and warfare
No white flags around as if to prove belligerent cries
Bayonets of reason and treason to each other’s cause

	Hypocrite and irredeemable bigot that is who you are
Renegade idealism does not grant bread on our plates
As long as you put your young feet under my table …
	Age is not an achievement and youth is no crime

Strangely enough there was ingrained disrespectful respect and
Some sort of approval and commendation and strange kind of love
We could see but not admit how the opponent got their acclaim

While I sought to put bouquets of flowers into heavy gun’s barrels
You were proud of my resilience and spoke highly of me to your friends
The truth that we fought our relentless struggles showed higher regard

As the inscription on your marble head stone grows tireless moss
While I slowly approach an urn of quiet reprieve to hold my own ashes
And the world still explodes and bursts at seams and with violent themes
I bring some poppies and daisies to your grave with no hidden agenda
And wish for the many apologies when Sorry is more than a phrase

	Maybe a kiss on your skull and bones deep down and below
	Comes never too late and for once we share intimate concern
	I scribe a memorial and know we will sign our treaty at last

07th December 2019
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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Theraven Avatar
December 7, 2019 at 10:16 PM
Kai, I like your somewhat misanthropic write 'Stronger than Death'. Freud would feel self efficacious in his diagnosis of this angst poem and it's creator. The universe will decide if the flowers will turn the heart from stone to dove. Pray that you are in the running, pray that you have the bigger heart. -Richard
Adams Avatar
December 7, 2019 at 7:20 PM
wow... this is a powerful poem Kai...so many great metaphorical images throughout this write...well crafted, exquisite poem! hugs
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