You are not
Are words conceit?
Do we really mean what we say?
Or truth perhaps one flicker of flame
from candle lit, while passing
time of day?
Several hours in languid
Thought and far off climes have
found the inspiration you're looking
towers of modern architecture,
Galleries of fame, paintings
from far off shores and sculptures
Now you're home your
Money spent, do these memories fade?
Gazing at the candle holder, as
You try to locate faith, the trip
(a struggle smiles upon your face).
The bars perhaps in Benidorm,
Maybe the Valley of the Loire
Or ancient Roman citadels,
The skiing in Capri; or maybe,
Just maybe; You're not at home
at all, yet deep inside a distant place.
For I the smile by candle
Light finds a pinch upon a flood,
Remembering the child
Of Kurdistan a-brink a westward
A madness close to nothingness,
An infinite null,
A living death at six years old,
His mind gone - west to hell;
What do we teach to kids?
What do we teach to kids?...................
.....................This weeping infinite
flow for a flame within a year,
A wisp of yellow telling truth
About this fake upon The Earth;
'All those adults seizing guns,
All the damned grenades,
Denying the child that hides in view,
From shedding lonely tears.
Michael J Waite Tuesday 3rd March 2009 - 0130hrs