Thursday, October 28, 2010

The unused

So there it sits on the plate of unused
somewhat stale and rather mouldy
but not yet abhorrent or disgusting
to one who believes in innate goodness.

It lives near the bin of my discarded
rather full with the advent of knowledge
that never enhanced my trust or belief
in what was play-acted out.

There must be a means of moving the old
even though there is goodness within
to a place unseen and not visited
by the consciousness that is a “me”.

So when love can’t come to the party
let it lie for a while undisturbed
for slowly the world and the manner of life
will destroy from the outside in.

Then it has moved, you see, you see,
with no denial or wilful intent
to partake in the ritual of a sacrifice
to this, oh, so transient life.

But there are the tears silent and grave
and the sad refrains of a witness to death
floating around in the atmosphere
like a shroud o’er the whole countryside.

The rivers become polluted, you see,
and the trees wilt in situ,
when men and woman like you and me
leave love to suffer on plates of unused!

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