The Knives Are Out And Sharpened - Poem by Andy Brookes
no specious space,
no the avoiding the void.
we're vacuuming up the vacuum,
so say hello to the birth of destiny.
spiral galaxies shed stars,
there lies beauty,
cold and pure.
but our destiny is a bitter truth
the biter bit.
our real reality a bitter gall,
it galls us.
the reality of our situation
whatever real is,
for are we really transparent entities
made of crystal
we shatter at the trumpet blast
that shrill clarion call,
the call to arms.
we act no better than our betters.
we forbear, learning nothing from our forebears.
crashing about blindly
holding our hate close to our chests,
a good hand or not.
we sharpen our knives,
when we should sharpen our wits.
we find ourselves at our wits end
with no wits.
witless, how witty is that.
we were at a crossroads
we crossed the road
turned into the wrong turning
so there's no turning back
except to back out, back away,
find a way back.
the way is closed
only a specious space remains.
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