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Some current poetry

Grasping the Thistle

I guess we’re growing old
like thistles in the drought-
parched park we all die
slow in summer;
Our seeds have blown away
as shadows slowly fall
to cover up the cracks
of crippled lovers.

We leave nothing more than dust
the carvings of a stone
that michaelang’lo smoothed
with sweat and a chisel;
For fate is just the same for
each and everyone so
face up to the Truth
and grasp the thistle.

It’s plain enough to tell
It’s not hidden in the puzzle
Life’s enigmatic Call –
Grasping the Thistle.

Vibrate Vapor Omnia

They say we are banal
Lacking in passion
For togetherness
Or some sort of
Apartheid;
But it has been too long
Since the bluntest axe
Hacked the widow’s tree
And the cries of the ravens
Drowned-out the singing bairns
Who still sing
Sentimentally
Beneath the waves of romance
For a fairy tale nation
That cannot be
Except in the mad imagination
Of pipers and make-believe
Piobaireachd
We die breathless
Vibrate vapor omnia