Writings - Poetry - 2010

Bandaged and bruised
A land is used
Under coerced revere
Of superior peer.
No substance obtained
In this knowledge sustained
Through the rhythm or grief
That came like the rain.
To preach, to question, to quest or guess
For absurd pleasure the powers do jest.
What purpose in such for the witnessing guests
Do we owe honor to seek this prerogative lest?
Lest the victims fall short on the sword?
Many a thing proclaimed for its own accord.
And for records we keep, they may repeat,
Such is the way of the triumphant feat.
Feet that do carry history,
Or hands that might throw mockery
Words fall silent like snow in June.
I fear that the weary
Need sleep from the query
Do we debate,
Or just instigate,
Between morning and noon?