Here! the poet’s immortal spirit take.
Though long I have betrayed its inner voice,
And wrote, instead, of love, indeed of choice.
I preached the lie of joy. And though I wake
At night to dreams so horrible they make
Me scream for mercy to a God whose Joys
I shall not ever know; could I rejoice
In some God’s misery for His own sake?
I criticized that fool; yet I am he.
The very fool who lives with naught but grief.
My shallow, poet’s soul shall always be
A measure of society’s belief.
I’ve fought this ugly truth to my last breath;
With nothing to look forward to, save death.
Very dark David, unlike you. But I like it a lot, just hope you feel well dear friend.
My Dear Bjorn! I would have responded sooner had I but seen your post, I’m very sorry to have alarmed you. I was mearly expressing my sick tummy with my whimsy turned “all the way up to eleven!” No cause for alarm at all, I assure you.
However, I must admit, my heart is warmed by your concern. Very much so. I think the Internet is a wonderful thing when it can bring together friends from so far afield. Won’t it be grand when other planets are on the net, using some kind of ipv8/hypercom!?!?!
On that note, I should mention, I had a dear friend, with whom I lost track sometime in the mid 1970ies–also a physicist–who was a member of a think tank working on FTL concepts–both travel and communication–quantum entanglement, and such as is the stuff of science fiction (before it someday becomes science-fact) I have great faith in individual men–in great minds–who will someday untangle that problem–which, to many, would seem impossible.
Myself love to write dark poetry, which has not even a connection to sick tummy or similar. Just pure imagination or perhaps fear of what might come.
Perhaps we are already connected to other planets. I have definitely seen cases were I suspects that Vogons have written the poetry .. ;-)
Only a true poet could express all that because of a sick tummy! Once again I bow before your superior skill, my dear, and I’m not kidding! It’s a beautiful work and knowing what it grew out of makes it all the more amazing. Your ability to express has always left me in awe. I am glad you’re feeling better…and I feel a little bit guilty for seeing your sickness as being almost worth it for the poetry that grew out of it.
Somehow I doubt you’d agree with me.
Ah, but my darling, I most definitely agree! (now that I am feeling better!)
Remarkable what a pleasure it can be to read [well-written] artful nihilism and despair! Well done, David.
I cannot now remember the mood which spawned this one. But… hereabouts, you will find a few similar–here and there, mixed with and hidden among the love and rain and joy &c.