Pendulum Rubaiyat
The pendulum of history shall swing
now to, now fro, pride break or profits bring:
thus one ‘should take the current when it serves’
for Change is in the air and on the wing.
The century snails onwards in its slime,
or so it seems to those who actions mime
as if they were the puppet masters, still
strings stay attached to the design of Time.
Soon we will witness Nature’s thunder hurled.
Pandora’s box has menaces unfurled
which angry retribution will afford
Mankind for the abuses of our world.
Convenience converts much truth to fiction
outside pure science for what's held conviction
acts as a shield protecting ignorance
from fears life's one-way ticket, then eviction.
Song, sweet today tomorrow wrong, may bring
misfortune, tune some other pipers sing,
perchance won't sound as sweet as it deserves,
shun bells that ring, leave only hands to wring.
When doomsday burns in fire or icy rime,
who'll care a tinker's curse for prose or rhyme,
attention spans grow shorter by the day
while dreams forgotten lie in Styx quicklime.
Perceptions rarely are sustained, we're whirled
willy-nilly, helter-skelter, curled
as foetus round our pre-conceptions, bet
hedge against deception's underworld.
Minds, blind, swap narrow scope for hopes' prediction,
erase discomfort phase by phrase whose diction
draws less from facts and more from praising Chance
which scoffs at both, ironic valediction.
What will remain thereafter of Man's skin
shell history, of struggles' loss or win,
a potsherd shard? polluted plastic trash?
rash who believes he'll outlive cycles' spin.
Vae victis! history's a partial tale
writ by the victors while beyond the pale
are exiled vanquished, shadows pale must roam,
as all leads to New Rome, avoids dust stale.
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
