February 26, 2008
By Brent Portal, Goshen, KY

I'm waiting to find an island of virtue,
In the middle of the sea of despair,
Beholden to the light which shines through to me,
And only my?

Waiting for callow men to erupt,
In their greed.
The dark smell of hatred lingers above me,
Is this merely a mirage?
Can we not see the desolate bodies of children?
Lacking the youth they should,
Waiting for others to embody them,
With their personality.
A personality created from deceit.

Can you make the endeavor for change?
To deviate from this path of self-destruction,
Inherently, I think not.

We are to busy toying with ethics,
Evolving but not changing,
Conforming, but never developing,
Beseeching for, but never doing.

If our destruction occurs,
It will be by our own hand,
We abdicate things we shouldn't,
The bitter taste of death tastes sweet,
To those who are the aggressors only.
But who then is the aggressor?

We shall wait for our annihilation
With felicity, and open arms,
As we suffocate ourselves in narcissism.

As I fall into a desolate dream,
I realize darkness knows no man as friend.
Yet we live with darkness side by side, as one.
Unified with what we don't want,
Parallel to what we do.

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This article has 1 comment.

fromthewater said...
on Aug. 21 2008 at 6:38 pm
Your imagery was perfect--I often wonder the same things you talk about. Your last stanza was a great fireworks ending.


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