It's not that images are powerful
but that consciousness -
already cursed by narrative - is weak:
everybody watches, mimics.
We are all distorted
unreadable reflections of each other.
In this globalisation
hypocrisy like prurience
is a vast equaliser
making us all moral latrines
horribly disguised as clinics.
Anthony Weir's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Television by Anthony Weir )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- PONDERING, Satish Verma
- Smrt, Tanja Bulovic
- The March Of Mortality, Edgar Albert Guest
- At Pelletier's, Edgar Albert Guest
- Fishing Nooks, Edgar Albert Guest
- The Day Of Days, Edgar Albert Guest
- Manhood's Greeting, Edgar Albert Guest
- The Few, Edgar Albert Guest
- Improvement, Edgar Albert Guest
- Songs Of Rejoicing, Edgar Albert Guest