Tearing Of The Cloth
Stuffed full of dense clouds,
My head is heavy with non-emotion.
Such is the present weather;
And I cannot keep thoughts of Kafka away.
(He tried to burn all his work,
But ((good for us)) it was saved.)
Men of the cloth have been deemed
Tarantulas. They slowly abrogate
Mind and sense. I rather respect dedication,
Except for nazi-like ideas, creepy communism or capitalistic cronyism.
De-evolution in society and politics
Is running rampant beginning
With the Industrial Age.
There's the rub: to 'improve' living
We have to sacrifice the planet.
Forever.
Waking up to a new day,
The azure morning following
A night abuzz with thunderstorms,
I tear away the cloth before my eyes,
And desire someone to begin telling the truth.
poem by Stan Petrovich
Added by Poetry Lover
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