Spite Poem by David Levitas

In spite of You, I spite the black shirted
Dragooned guards, who lap their obscenity
In metal rumps, striped or chequered flaps
That mask the lip, the current that tickles grass and fancies;
The cropped skull clipped rotunda's that raise hell
And the roots that nurture all there is and living.
From Berg to berg, I wonder as a Schuman's Brahms,
Sea searching on artificial fields for his Clara'a Lara,
Divorced from Reality, severed from Pity
By the Double bonded, exchanged, Razor's edge,
That can only mouth its love, in seeming words
And Wayward, remembered signs, resembling His fidelity;
A Home his Angelus Three (or is it four) , a Symblolic symbol
For the Pictured, Primrose Path, in Ruth, Passion, or Rightful Bar,
Its Justice, Love, Earthly Human Reality.