Dense Jungles Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Life lies before us in skies of black and gray
supposedly reaching heights it was meant to,
scanning many horizons, waving good bye to all
that once stood for being.

Wandering through dense jungles of the mind,
cutting away branches, creating new paths,
slicing away at haunting memories set forth in
slender anticipation, quietly growing away from
the known beacons of life.

Waving gently for the dawn of certain reasoning
to begin, stationed heroically on systems of
chance, wheels of unfortune beckoning poor
withered souls of leavened pride.

Situated on porches of infinite invisibility,
parading like fantastic memories from past
creations, frantically writhing in pools of
bloodless laughter, afraid of being, hereafter.

Bowing beneath great pressure and ineptitude, people
constantly fall beside the pole of near assisted death,
wantonly deprived of dignity or respect.

Forgotten only on the insistence of those who change or
alter dispositions, handcuffed to the emptiness of life,
being led to the edge of night, casually rendering the
ineffectiveness all have begun when new life has started.