we cynics are sincere---
the atmosphere around us is queer.
each breath we take, we share
the melanoma of the day,
while the words we spray in exhale
are a mist of true disdain---
refrain, refrain!
the gentler moments of a prouder day
are left us now but remain
like tears in a puddle.
we cynics look true
at the warped sky blue image
playing notes on the face we grimace---
that is you! that is you!
god help us for our tears,
god spare us our fears,
god grant us strength
to say what must be said---
the face we see, and tears we shed,
ripples in water, run cold and heartless.
we cynics salute now
the light of day upon us all.
each breath opens the pall---
empty shadows line our eyes and
true words echo within our cries.
the moment for the moment lives
like a ripple in a puddle,
drip fed from sincere eyes.
a flag waving, we give rise
to what is without fear---
atmosphere queer, cynics sincere.
I'm not as much cynical as I wish to be. Guess one day I'll have the required will power to live as ancient Greek cynical men did, reject conventional manners and live a simple life.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem, Oren. =*
don't worry so much now---get to it when you can. we'll carry the weight in the meanwhile! =)
ReplyDelete