Driveless Points – a poem



None believe the truth when

It comes for them, blindly
Stark and bearing down, all
Alight in the mind, huge
Where it is too close, bloomed.
Surely something can be done,
They say, well wishes and talk
Of insipid phrases grating dry
On a mind not resigned but true
To itself in trying and more.
The calls of enwrapped voices
Scratch sharp grooves in matter
Which have fooled uselessly with
Anodynes and addiction where
Now truth is the only anodyne
True and fair.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s