IndecisiveI often fear the power to decideIndecisive
That fate would trust to my humanity
Whenever my decisions go untried
How can I take the duty to divide
Between what's right and what seems clear to me
I often fear the power to decide
Too dangerous to think--what if I lied Will truth become a past obscurity Whenever my decisions go untried
A weapon can be forced to choose a side When I don't have the strength to disagree I often fear the power to decide
Choice offered when it cannot be denied Is worse than every small uncertainty Whenever my
Only HumanOnly HumanOnly Human
seeking immortality, I was cast out
among the fallen
but I didn't have that far to fall now I am the antagonist,
the enemy again,
I am the knife in the dark
but I'm only human no different from all of you I just accepted what's behind the complex psyches the fervent voices swearing that they'll never sell thier soul
as if it were some fragile bird with
innocence to lose.
deny it, but I made a choice,
and you can't fault me.
those days when fate's staring into my eyes
and time tries to kill me,
Premature Epitaphyou cannot die endlessly and fall into oblivion wrapped in the arms of some bleak apparition who seeksPremature Epitaph
to take your soul forever trapped in agony living with the pain of imagined crimes
but you can die
we all can die
the illusion no doubt could strangle you
bleeding from the wounds you see
that could have not been there what black despair you sought
and found, to your true sorrow what is far from macabre,
you’ve been forgotten
you weren’t screaming silently as they passed you unmercifully you were just sitting there &nb
and
--
You're either a fan of Virgil, or a fan of Freud. One is refreshing and the other a bit unnerving. But I have to say I appreciated the hunt it took me on, and now I know something new, always an invaluable thing, knowledge.
No, you're right, it wasn't a villanelle, but it wasn't horror and macbre either, was it? I'm in protest over the new and over wrought poetry descriptions. I think they're foolish, and since no one reads my work anyway, I think it's fine to hide it where no one can see. Masochistic? Maybe, but ultimately a fine a valid protest.
Thank you for the comment and the watch.
A.
--
www.strangejournal.com
As for my signature, it's the former, not the latter. Freud...I don't know.
--
- - - / - - -
Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.
Thank you for the watch.
I hope you enjoy your stay!
Benedictions!
--
There is no escape from metre; there is only mastery.
- T.S. Eliot 'Reflections on Vers Libre' 1917 [link]
--
- - - / - - -
Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.
--
"I'm like a person whose hands were kept numb, without sensation from the first moment of awareness--until one day the ability to feel is forced into them.
And I say: "Look! I have hands!" But the people all around me say: "What are hands?"
--
- - - / - - -
Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.
--
- - - / - - -
Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.
--
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