Poetry Scrap

Waves crashing the jagged rock to primeval atoms, dashed to an unidentifiable essence

I wait for it every day, for the waves

There is a beautiful moment of utter stupidity, denying reality, wearing gaiety like a Roman toga

Air in hair, that shit eating grin, people in skyscrapers are putting on sunglasses

You know there is a perverse comfort, a malaise, which has coated the land when news reports U.S. Marines deaths and U.S. firefighters do not keep their flags at half staff

The blood quickens and cools by the whims and fancies of a deluded, solitary mind

These flutters, ideal laden cells navigate valves

Ancient dreams manifest in new aesthetics, righting wrongs, recreating the world

Yet, the wave, she comes

When every glance reveals judgment, handshake ownership, and word theft

The stupid acknowledges stupidity, reflecting is reflected

Tears, like waves, expel but fail to destroy

Whispers call for cleansing, to paralyze, anesthetize, obliterate

© Michael Mosher 2008