A Poem That Makes Me Think of the 20th Century

 

I Come To Take Your Hate

This I write

To make true

Decency is not lost

Love is not diminished

Grace is not absent

I come to take your hate

I will turn the hot stone

Into a cool wind

Fire only consumes

Remakes the world

In its own image

Of ash and ember

This I do

So that you may know your own sound

Breathe

Hear your heart

The beating

Of the engine

Hear the blood

How it flows

With quiet force

The sound

Of your fingers

As you gently

Rub their tips

Together

This is the sound of time

Without the weight of years

This I give to you

Gene G. McLaughlin 2016

 

 

Ouroboros

The world tries to hollow me out

I respect the world’s prerogative

Its capacity for the positive endless

Its pursuit of the negative flawless

It’s ceaseless attempts to consume

The I, the who, the whom

Tracking ruthlessly on my scent

Form of

Food, taxes, utility bills and rent

On the worst of days

I drift away

Most days I just sway

Starting to protest, to say . . .

but I know the snake knows anyway

The devouring serpent

Is aware of

It’s destiny

Soil

And oil

And meat

Becoming that

Treading

Beneath our feet

Today though

I am half swallowed

Head turned toward the sun

The snake and I as one

I do not face the snake

Making the bastard wait

Gene G. McLaughlin 2015