Blood Upon The Moon


1
Poetry is far behind me now:
I have lost the gift of music,
the memory-hidden silences.

That place where once I lived, in
glory, is occupied: by
cruel forces of the invasion.

The armies of the ignorant
twitch, and kneel:
they leave their blood upon the moon.

2

So alright you know more than me,
I concede to your competitive
vanities and the telescope of ambition

Where attitude substitutes for
actual accomplishment by
the surrogates of the soul and sad deeds

In the committees of abandonment,
authorities I do not sanction
governing what occurs between me and thee.

3

As if money wasn’t every measure,
for what cannot be missed
in the absences of real treasure

No more a garden nor oasis,
no safe heart or places traded
for what is lost within the traces

That do not feel like grace or the swift
awareness beyond the judges awaiting
verdicts with which they already agree again.

©Dean Baker

©All Rights Reserved

my books on Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM/

© deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com

 

NEW BOOKS: Shadow Boxing The Infinite, Phantoms Of The Northern Forests, The New Poetry Hotel

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s