poetry – The Poetry Of J.P.

Both Sides

They came, they saw,
and they conquered;
we stayed and witnessed,
and they abused us.

I will not be remembered,
not in the history classes
or in the breath
that fogs rose colored glasses
when widows weep at dawn.

On workdays he’d get up,
worn as the mattress’s springs,
and put on his dad face.
I’d sometimes see him through the cracks

How many year ago
did the carpenters tools
become useless
to understand the world?

Reading the newspaper:
It said, new material blacker

There is an apocalypse in my chest,
and there is a bluebird beating its wings.

Not in leaflets or amid the marching
of nuclear niore to be found,

We are the cynical age of man
we are the mouth of ridicule,
whispering alone,

Liberty’s wields her sword
in most imperceptible ways,

I have gone out into the snow,
braving the winter’s fiery cold,
and searched for rabbit high and low
when frosty mitts refused to hold.