Thursday, June 10, 2010


Flags wave in the breeze
and I wonder if they feel
the air cruel and sinister
around their happiness.

It’s a movement from all sides
not intended ere to be
but it forces a crossover
from the upright and determined
to a wayward vagabond.

Unable to remain at peace
that vagabond is me
manoeuvred like a fool
into a foreign mode
by the air that circulates
demonic energy.

So I plant my flag again, again,
from where it was to where should be
and this exercise seems futile
when nothing can be seen
but the bend and stretch,
mental intent,
the saviour of all flags, you see,
that wave haphazard in a breeze!

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