We Demons Poem by D A Phinney
We Demons
Here is Hell: to be deceived by hope.
Who's born again is merely lately fell
Into a trap, another simple trick
Among so many, from the Devil's store.
Or God's. It doesn't matter, really. Look:
The rended sky no one will answer for;
The poisoned earth that cries out in our bones;
The sea in tides of refuse, human-sick;
The heavenly spirit dwindles to mere spook.
Our future's only grim; we might as well
Console ourselves: the damned cannot atone,
But horrorless stare rushing down the slope
To doom... But wait! Embrace despair and shout!
Shake one claw at heaven! before they snuff us out.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 2:31:42 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I trust you may not make many friends here at PH with these types of poems and I can attest to the fact. The plain truth being, most people wish not to know the truth, as I am reminded of Irving Layton's quote 'enemies, the true poet will always have, as long as he keeps telling it, the way it is.' Not verbatim exactly, but essentially that's how I remember it, so close enough. 'The poisoned earth that cries out in our bones; ' and 'The heavenly spirit dwindles to mere spook.' rage with nefariosity! Far too foreboding, I fear for the mainstream, but screams volumes to my ear. Appreciated your building to such a powerful crescendo. Please continue with your take on things, no matter of their consequences. You've inspired me to post my 'Demons In My View' poem and so I shall do so tonight. Gregory