The Tale of the Ragman (version 2)
an attempt at a less cliche poem
Mailcars amply filled bring
a most telling import
brides are doomed to weep and die
her death, filled with so many failed strivings
a trained psychiatrist sees through the lies we tell ourselves
reckless abandonment, caring naught for form or function
animated pretending with a thousand guises
blunt miscreants verging into vibrant madness
should follow a line of precast behavior
evolutionary survival disfavors individuality
outcast expression in a wasteland
speaks out in desperation
thought lost in a recursive loop
a sound, a light, an abrupt shove
until the time to play is realized
the delineated scribblings of tattered clothes
coughs out skilled trance stutterings
girls with swagger meet guys with funk
a idea forms, glimmering eruptions
small and large become one
struggling to hold the invisible
but the time was not yet to be
it sang an ensnaring endless music
and those who hid in the darkness gathered
unnoticed attendees
gorging on broken dreams
with sporadic sharp sounds
awaken to light
light adorns you
shadow clings to chaos
the quiet within one speaks
microscopic pointless zeroes
that we fain such attachment for
existence is filled with treasures
and knowledge commands all
indelicate sorrowful cruelties baffle
so slave on, because hopelessness insists
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