In between

the passion

and calm

hide seas of chaos

        the lucid stars

              whisper in night


     and reaching for the moonchild

               in Springtime air

       resurrection of the leaves

            to the Kelly green

        of branches fallen


no listen to the here and now

               in esoteric groan

                 void of reason


the prophets of poetry

              lay dying in the Ivory Tower

                    as Marie Antoinette

                          eats cake


no soldiers marching forward

         with solutions

the drawbridge pulls shut


                  keeping them

      outsiders from the king;

assassination of spirit attempted


ne’er successful

   failed by persistence

           & other shit

               of the sort

Cascade's picture



georgeschaefer's picture

much thanks for reading and

much thanks for reading and commenting

Starward's picture

This poem is really

This poem is really magnificent; really fine.  Although the abbreviation in the first line of the last stanza rings hollow (archaic English does not quite fit the contemporary conversational sound of the poem), it does not lessen the verbal effect of the entire poem.  I applaud your accomplishment here.


[* /+/ ^]

georgeschaefer's picture

thank you.  glad you liked

thank you.  glad you liked it.  I know the archaic stuff is corny but I have a soft spot for kitsch