Poetry by Rowan Blair Colver
I hear you,
The compliant and
Deviant mockery in
Leagues of ignorant
Galloping minds that hide.
You know also from
Which they cower and fake
Like rabbits in the pitch
Dark halls of the market
Early hours and blurry eyes
The denial revels in gratification
In the cheapest form
So with that gyrating sickness
Of want for some purpose
And meaning in this place
That is empty and cold
You feed the fire with your integrity
And spirit
In order to fit
That most basic virtue of greed
Which cripples the soul
Like crisped potatoes
And dead cut grass
Can you smell it?
To think that for one moment
In the perceptions of your dimly lit mind
That it appears my vein was flowing in unison
Makes a peerage of the intent
In the obviously deemed cryptic decent
From dribbling Freudian sludge
Into the considered and once fertile sanctity
Of some nestled time
Yet no, the cheapness of delusion
Is a bargain indeed
So go
Be free.
Rowan Blair Colver