Lonelier Humanities Poem by Charles Thomas Carter

Pushing heavy endurance
siphoning sleepy semblances of energy;
the days flow with epitaphs of stone
quarried deeper within lonelier humanities;
their ghostly grasping for meaningful looks,
glances even...
Finding too many disembodied voices
stripped of bloodied warmth.
Some waiting in cellular-lacking chambers,
anticipating emancipating visitation.

The length of the sentences spoken,
with written tomes to follow
constrained struggles to shatter shackles,
so easily installed.

Morning voices wakening somnolent sympathies,
card-drawn soothsaying pressures
imparting barometric personality lifts;
bringing the lie-still attitude
into a dismantlement.

Past the prime viewing window,
not every road leads to dimming horizons,
and waning readership.



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