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Vanitas

Lifting my weary an drugged head
"Hey'
Is all that croaked
From a dried throat
As the Irish gals
From Donegal
Those medical Angels
Surely sent
By family past
Dote about
My sickening
Karmic Dragons breath
Did seek me out again
Only so many times
I be lucky
To duck an weave
Its directing
More of
A spray
On the other side
The midnight tree
Wounded Deer
Do run
Till Deaths door
It comes
Laying down
Forest floor
And welcomes
No more runs
They know
As well as I
It ain't over
Till I die
Ozymandias
It shall be
Long after
I fly away
Smiling
Knowing I won
Splitting the Atom
Isn't for thee
You" l have to be satisfied
Surely
You get to keep
Human trafficking
No one
Would suspect
A Copper Head Potato
Well
That's not entirely correct
So I 
Blink
Cause mother, wife, an children
Are in danger
Best I not leak
To much
As fateful paths
Merge
Shared suffering
Isolation
Vanitas

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Steven Young

Date: 8/5/2022 1:20:00 PM

As your allusion to Ozymandias most strongly suggests, it is all vanity. Must confess, though, vanitas must have been in my literature class, but I don't remember, so this poem was a lesson. Thanks ;)

Dominic Middleton
Date: 8/8/2022 6:44:00 PM

Some old poems are not old but a reflection of human nature, which I see are timeless. Which is so sad. We, as a species, forget, don't remember, lessons learnt and then forgotten only to be learnt again and then forgotten by subsequent generations. Seems we are caught in a loop, which will be our demise. Thanks for your comment. Best wishes and kind regards.