Skip to content

Colossus

October 1, 2016

wp-image-1772456776jpg.jpg

Beauty.
And ambition.
Have made you sick.
Point.
Smile.
Click.
Point.
Smile.
Click.
Like a tic.
Like a tick.
A Gorgon smiling into Athena’s shield.
If nothing’s recorded.
Then nothing is real.
And nothing really is.
When you ignore how you think.
And adore how you feel.
A cog in the clock.
A spoke on the wheel.
All their precision.
But none of their worth.
A byproduct of invention.
An accident of birth.
I scarcely need to mention.
That I’ve seen it all before.

You dress your lips with poet’s blood.
And expect the crowd to roar.
But the stands are filled with mirrors.
And the theatre itself, a trick.
The shield beguiles and glimmers.
Point.
Smile.
Click.
Point.
Smile.
Click.

The spider spins his pretty web.
And it sparkles in his eyes.
Adorns it with its due of death.
Whilst stars vanish from the skies.

Advertisements

From → Poetry

Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: