It's a medium
A written window
To the soul?
Or a jumble of words
A fantasy of authorship
A cry for fame
For the delusional
The failed writer
Poetry - it's like sarcasm...
An escape for those of feeble mind
Perhaps 'the lowest form of wit'
Or just maybe it's words from beyond
A spiritual tour of the subconscious
An open doorway to what lies beneath
A chance to overtly express
An opportunity to speak outside of the norm
Poetry demands patience
From the writer
From the reader...
A poem isn't the product of a day
There is a lifetime
Written in a few sentences
The poem asks us to answer a question
Of ourselves...
Who can fathom that lifetime
Within those few short words
And even fewer minutes..?
Read and try to follow
That which is unfathomable...
Yesterday is written down
Kept for posterity
From Today
True is tarnished
Its ink corroded
A metallic presentation of a past
Controlled records hide fact
With convenient truth
The RAM is corrupted
And the memory is lost
Degraded…
Tomorrow is…
Of that there may be doubt
Oh!, the Crows argue its significance
yet fly from its certainty
for tomorrow is a matter of debate
future lacks substance
unless televised in advance
Time’s arrow diverted and dispelled
As matter dissolves
into tomorrow
and ends
Full Stop…
Images from Finchley 