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LCK

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Joined
Nov 16, 2003
Messages
408
Location
Toronto, Canada
Visions

We have let you down my darlings,
Your passionate trust, that mankind
Had something more to offer, that an
Apocalypse was on the horizon.
My poet-philosophers, I love you
All, yet I would cringe to meet you,
It would break your heart
To see what we have become.
My dearest Donne, my wicked saint,
Your passions for the flesh exceeded
Only by your passion for the soul.
And Blake, tortured genius, if you
Could see how the "mind forg'd
Manacles" bind us still, how the
Holy Thursdays mock us; yes, still
In our midst, piety does not die a
Willing death,
Shelley, brave Shelley, whose words
Bespoke his own passing, do not
Renounce your radical ways, you were
Right, more than you ever knew.
Herrick who died without his Anthea
To lie eternally alone
In an unmarked grave
And Wordsworth still stands, caught
In desolate limbo upon the bridge
Eyes cast to the Thames in search
Of answers that never come,
Answers that have grown
Distant as humanity ceases to
Remember the questions.
And Yeats, can you see
The millennium has passed,
The gyres lay shattered at your feet,
Spun out of control,
Desolate Waste Land,
Eliot was right.

Laurie
 
LCK said:
My poet-philosophers, I love you
All, yet I would cringe to meet you,
It would break your heart
To see what we have become.

That was my favorite part.
 
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