...quiet, about a lot of things...
Monday, October 06, 2008
Why the Sky Is Blue and Other Dangerous Questions
The sky moves by, in fits and sputters
of grey or purple or coal miner black.
Darker for emphasis, stars as beacons.
The sky moves constantly with blue
just reflection of water. What then,
reflects in the black, I wonder?
The coal miners despair? And who supplies
the claret,murky merlot purple? Which
king dips his head in surrender?
I have met the grey before,as he mocks stars.
Those brave beacons,needing only contrast to shine.
Grey;a dull flat endless nowhere,in particular.
She never did believe
curiosity was conceived
to kill that cat.She disagreed
with it's very premise from the get.
To be free,released, yes, to let
go is danger fraught and yet
how thrilling! She could only dream;
to cross that path, to forge that stream
of thought and wish and will supreme.
To leave this plane of mortal piss
and cough and spew and toil, this.
Just cut it loose, with good bye kiss.
To venture where she did not know.
what lurks ahead? what troubles grow?
She'd gladly trade this earthly show
toss all grey tasks she'd known so far
to gamble on some distant star,
to throw the dice, or dodge the car.
She never did agree the cat did more
than take an odds on bet, before
banking on his lives in store.
Hers much more, a deadly game,
though it may appear the same
that damned cat, deserves the blame.
Labels: Poetry Thursday