Friday, May 13, 2005

Whom Knows? (perhaps a work in progress...?)

Smear the tears, step back apace
Behold in mirror, the clockwork face

Insipid lies, intrisic truth
Contempt belated, geriatric youth

Composing compost, heaps of dust
Consumption lays us all to rust

Belie all love, rhythmic pounds of flesh

Equal in hours, mere wasted sec's

Moistures due, unfurled by heat
Infants suckle at shrivelled teat

Undone, each layer peels from time
Shrouded fools we pantomime

Knees now raw, clasped hands now ache
Eyes filled with earth, stars appear fake

Complexities realm, simplistic views
Complacent winds storm the pews

Societal bliss, the sightless eye
Walls come down, shields pile high

Atop the mountain, the rock speaks peace
Beneath it all, expired lease

Behold the history of the clockwork face,
Or be doomed the hands to repeat their place


-J.G.Smith (05/13/05)

1 comment:

Rapunzel said...

I think you may have something here. I like what you're doing with rhyme and some of the images really work too. Hmmm . . . of course, isn't all poetry a work in progress? ;-)