e.e. wilholt

Bad Dream - Poem by e.e. wilholt

* * * *

Fate is father to man
And man destroys what he can
To bring a life to this world,
A tender baby sigh in the midst of turmoil

“what a lark”
blackness of lungs and
darkness of heart—
cold white evil in brain
Oh, hell

When his empire crumbles
Little King’s parachute flies and
Floats to smoking stubble...
He builds realms with tears and
Topples them with laughter

What am I doing here
When I can be climbing mountains
Crying into trees
Laughing in clean rivers
Changing strange babies—
Living a true life of necessity
And ecstatic reality

Farther into the entrails of time
The bloody hunter searches
For the heart of all being.
Red-anger eyes ignore slimy
Matter of revengeful thirst—
Scorn the good liver, the
Want-filled lungs; hungry fingers
Grope and pull for the
Pregnant bleeding heart

* * * *

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, October 5, 2008

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