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Literature Text
I turned the old TV on last night.
Goverments are still having fights.
Newly-wed was slashed,
and a three-year old's heart had failed.
Another plane took a deadly dive,
Some old soldiers marched out their tragic lives,
and a few more teenagers were sent to jail.
A heroin addict was beaten to death.
The cops have the weapon but nothing else.
And the stock is rising, insert yawn.
Another shooting in the bad part of town.
They found the gun buried underground.
Worst of all, it was in a family's lawn.
A psychopath found himself a gun,
shot five dead and then he was done.
And a million more died of starvation far away.
Another city was blown to bits,
and the refugees were a mit bit pissed,
and then the newsreader smiled and said,
"That's all for today."
Goverments are still having fights.
Newly-wed was slashed,
and a three-year old's heart had failed.
Another plane took a deadly dive,
Some old soldiers marched out their tragic lives,
and a few more teenagers were sent to jail.
A heroin addict was beaten to death.
The cops have the weapon but nothing else.
And the stock is rising, insert yawn.
Another shooting in the bad part of town.
They found the gun buried underground.
Worst of all, it was in a family's lawn.
A psychopath found himself a gun,
shot five dead and then he was done.
And a million more died of starvation far away.
Another city was blown to bits,
and the refugees were a mit bit pissed,
and then the newsreader smiled and said,
"That's all for today."
Literature
Icarus
Icarus
The dreamer who dreamed too high.
A myth to subdue glory-seeking youth.
It's the tale of a foolish boy who dared to try to reach the sun,
But the heat was too great,
and his make-shift wings melted,
Dooming him to the frothing waves below.
But is that really the truth?
Maybe it's not a cautionary tale,
But one of hope-
Of hope for all dreamers to come.
He didn't fail to touch the sun,
Rather he touched the greatest glory.
He soared past the bewildered birds,
On past the highest mountains,
On past cold reality
And cruel calculation
Blistering
Blazing
Burning
Literature
The Rumour of Icarus
Icarus—
there is a rumour that your father killed you, that
he bent your wings until they broke and then
told you, "Fly."
If this rumour is true, then it lives in the throats of
those fragile boys who wear your death like Cain's mark,
whose tender hands split like swollen tomatoes when
they pluck strangled seabirds, whose
arms slump beneath the weight of their father's genius.
And this rumour lives on
the under-skin of their eyelids so that when they die
or simply sleep
they dream of their fathers
or maybe just of Daedalus, standing with
his hands full of feathers and wax,
their blood-flecked down under his fingernails
Literature
Icarus
Sun girl,
the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.
Do not let anyone
clip your wings;
you were made for the skies.
Suggested Collections
just commentary on the news, here. For some reason this poem reminds me of a song- I may have stolen a few lines from something, somewhere. If someone can tell me where, I'd be appreciative of it.
© 2007 - 2024 Revosh
Comments2
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So true. The evening news is where they start with, "Good evening," and proceed to tell you why it is not.
Great job!
Great job!