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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.