Entropy Elegy

To the sum of a battle cry

can you help?  In the different selves


outside of oneself a sickness has taken

hold.  The sad melody of malady


gripping the heart gone

stunned by reality


seen in plain sight that no

one seems to see. I have


not the language to explain—but I try.  Too


many of this city’s people who would

rather go another day not thinking


because the things they cannot unlearn

are too scary.  Ugly truths


refuse to be forgotten climbing like aggressive

clematis choking out everything in its path


only to bloom and die year after year, after life-

times of forgotten ago.  Vines coil tight to find


stability for the rest of itself with violet and magenta

blooms which fall petal by petal, until they look


to the naked eye as to be dead.



  1. to one who wrote a fine elegy…

    the dead are living
    the living are as the dead
    the cost of no thought


  2. Reblogged this on disdainfulbeauty and commented:

    This poem from the blog is exceptionally relevant today.

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