"We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started
and know the place for the first time." (T S Eliot)
"A dark and chanted verse is what I am." (
Forough Farrokhzad)

Sunday, February 22, 2015

RED RATTLER

When the currents of ruin run so deep
I tell myself that I might never sleep.
For if I dream the soundtrack strums and beats
A cheap rhythm that promises then cheats.

That silver train is rolling by.
It sways with a jerk
Like an old red rattler
That needs some work.
Two caravans are coupled
Amongst the crowded cars,
With sky blue flashes on the sides -
Pristine like some sick fashion's scars -
Painted by an idiot's hand,
A hideous crime of design.

And I cannot find your dreary art's house,
Hidden and dark in your mind of decay
That rears its flaccid horns in temper's bouts;
But I don't want to go there anyway.


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