Francis Meyrick

The False Calm

(watching in awe as the small man, Obama-Chamberlain, repeats Munich, 1939 style, and Ukraine is fractured)

(who is next?)

The False Calm of a stricken night
Fading away
Sleepless and tossed
In the struggling light
My second sight
Seems to be lost
Vying only in decay
With shadow filled dreams
and unrhymed reams.

In the distance, a train
Its sound, faintly heard
Toots a mournful refrain
repeating, absurd.

I’m tired of Men
Their hubris yet again
Their arrogant souls
The greedy holes
From which they peep
Into the small box
That firmly locks
Around their neck
And totally blocks
Like medieval stocks
Their chance to be
Compassionate, and free.

In the distance, a train
Its sound, faintly heard
Toots a mournful refrain
repeating, absurd.

Struggling, tired thinking
Well meaning, but sinking
Beneath the stagnant slime
Of conformist grime
I have long left my pillow
And stand cold at the window
Sensing loss and a dying
False hopes, and much lying.

Over this Once Free Land
Now Dark and Brooding
Truth is occluding
The Founding fathers’ wise tread
Diluted, near dead.

In the distance, a train
Its sound, faintly heard
Toots a mournful refrain
repeating, absurd.

Francis Meyrick

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on March 29, 2014, 9:53 am