Tangled Roots
In ancient days, ink was made of animal blood.
Today, the blood of ignominy
Stains the earth.
The bull
ies
Maul, rape, despoil
Far from Pamplona.
We, the most brilliant creatures yet known
The innovators, inventors, imagineers
The destroyers, the executioners
The dispensers of hate.
Can we go on a war diet?
Can we live one week
Without murdering
Anyone,
Anywhere?
Are astroseismologists right?
Stars that give warmth and light
Are also brutal marauders
That smother their planets
With lethal radiation.
Some say the world will end in fire
Some say in ice
As a teardrop falling on the sobs of history
I think hatred
Will suffice.(1)
I cannot soften the cosmos,
The rabid, the aggrieved, the infuriated.
But I can wrap you in gentleness
Erase, maybe, the bloody stains
Of post-Eden dystopia
Create, maybe, a dollop of joy
A teaspoon
Of stainless ecstasy
In a world
That eradicates
Delight.
c. Corinne Whitaker 2016 - 2023
(1) I find that I have agreed with Robert Frost.
front page , new paintings, new blobs, new sculpture, painting archives, blob archives, sculpture archives, photography archives, Archiblob archives, image of the month, blob of the month, art headlines, technology news, electronic quill, electronic quill archives, art smart quiz, world art news, eMusings, eMusings archive, readers feast, whitaker on the web, nations one, meet the giraffe, studio map, just desserts, Site of the Month, young at art,
want to know more about the art?
email: giraffe@giraffe.com
about the artist?
copyright 2023 Corinne Whitaker
