Read My Verses, Tell Me, Tell Me, I Am Wrong. Poem by RIC BASTASA

i viewed your life from here.
now i can say, it was not love.
it was not love that made you
really happy. For love was cut
short and it was really that sharp
and you bleed

but i know you knew what to do.
you pressed for politics and blood stopped.

though blood flowed somewhere else
sort of some canal in that now so
well known district.

i know what made life thrilling from
your point of view.
Politics. You know your way and you
very well know your way out.

and so i hear the laughter of the
victorious. you set aside the cries of
those defrauded, (or even murdered into
the silence of their defeats)

strong woman, scheming woman, old hag
they were all there wearing the same stained
dress which was made decent by the works of
art, redemption of evil, into the sanctity of
beauty, and the sacrilege of mass patronage.

you are sick now, but they are saying
your mind is still sharp as an edge of the blade.
if one stares, one gets blinded.

well, death is coming, what do you say now?
no more lies, no more disguises, at least to your
heart and your soul

sing sing for me the sacred songs
the mantras of redemption
save yourself now, the last hour is ticking

strong woman, is your soul that strong still?
read my verses, tell me, tell me, i am wrong.