If I had to explain in a broken butter-mouth,
would you listen?
Neck bent back, open, exposed on the roadside.
Is there decency in such death?
Last night's rain was enough
to settle the dust on my eyelids.
Falling hard but never touching
mouse nests in the mattress.
Forge welded in the earth,
hammered on the hard plain,
folded, beaten and quenched,
this tool wasn't made for brain surgery.
Among the picks and sledgehammers
in the hearts of men and apes,
pry-bars and persuaders lay
oiled and ready, unrusted, unguilty.
Foraging for berries, nuts and bolts,
we kill, we eat and we kill again.
Wounded, festering with poison,
in bogs we lie dying over mastodon bones.
Better tools gather rust.
Soul corrosion makes us blind.
Dimes over our eyes make us blind.
For twenty cents we let our birthright slip away.
Kalliope
Means "beautiful voice" from Greek καλλος (kallos) "beauty" and οψ (ops) "voice". In Greek mythology she was a goddess of epic poetry and eloquence, one of the nine Muses.
Join us every Tuesday afternoon at the Daily Kos community political poetry club.
Your own poetry is always welcome in the comments.
Bongos, berets & turtle neck sweaters optional.
The keyboard is mightier than the sword.
Readers & Book Lovers Series Schedule: