Sleepless In My Battle
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We who wield the mighty sword leaded and sharpened neat and straight search vainly for hearty tales where Eros or God has placed a hand and turned the wilderness we have made back into the garden with apple trees and juicy synonym pairs and plums. We yearn to taste the flesh sublime to feel its secretions dripping and with them ourselves slipping into a whirlpool of sheer delight from which we never rediscover loneliness, despair, and pain. Oh to be in that blissful state again this side of the great divide! So I put my pen and sword aside, straighten my back and feign content when in truth the World's goodness is so well and truly spent that it has bled me completely dry. For every orphaned child I wish to cry, or for widowed mother lowly bent her home a shattered withered wreck, I stay safely at home cocooned my tears long since completely dried desensitised by gory media information - I count them one by one instead as passing dark amorphous sheep whose task is solely to prevent my sleep. © Allen Ansell 2022
Thoughtful and wonderful poem.
You can certainly see your writing skills in your work. All the time go after your heart.
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