I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
I enter your temple with trembling dread Your priests and priestesses glower at me; Their language does strange things to my poor head
By D. J. Reddall2 months ago in Poets
Time cruelly dismembers created things All mortal beings will face their demise Our task is diligent remembering Those who forget will never join the wise
"O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend /The brightest heaven of invention,/ A kingdom for a stage, princes to act /And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!" --William Shakespeare, The History of Henry V, Prologue, Scene 1, lines 1-4
Defend those you love Especially when they fall What else does love mean?
How much pain and horror and foolishness Have you watched with silent indifference? Fascists laughing as they children oppress
Why didn't they see it coming? The signs of rot and corruption were vivid, unmistakable Who could possibly have been oblivious to the steady slide south?
The wet November asphalt is waiting The streetlight looks at it skeptically Its naïve optimism is grating When you have seen what autumn nights can be
Chatbots flatter us They suckle at eye udders Attention gluttons
Red pages published By quiet, wooden presses Rivers read autumn
*Bob! How do you feel?* This thought was the first thing I became aware of, once I was able to pay attention to anything other than the muck.
By D. J. Reddall2 months ago in Horror
When your own army Bothers your citizenry Your state's sclerotic
How they will scold you about the danger Human connections are our primary concern, upon them we rely For every aspect and ingredient of our flourishing: social, economic, cultural
