Ode To Artaud - Poem by Robert Leary
Has the world become so incestually complex
that song no longer rhymes
that laughter is a sullen gesture to appease another
that being unique we're isolated
like one cube from another?
Is the heart frozen in a tube
to be shaken by a hand we do not see
forsaken to a destiny of prescription drugs
administered to a body
prescribed by lack of destiny
to endure a little longer
as if the truth be found in time...
Or is there something to say for patterns
that obviate from the past that say:
'listen to me or you will not last.'
Comments about Ode To Artaud by Robert Leary
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.