Driftwood
The cooling, quenching current has
captured yet another drifting, petrified soul
pushing, pulling, bobbing, floating
toward the open sea of acquiescence.
‘Tis impossible to refuse, to resist
‘tis only possible to resign, to forfeit
For what lies ahead can, in all the greatest
of presumptions, be only benevolent.
If t’were I on said journey, would I ignore,
nay, impugn logic of truth & familiarity?
Say I, if the choice be mine
halcyonically will I evolve.
Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.
Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Love Eternal | 1 | 05/25/2010 |
| The Augmentation of My Breasts | 2 | 05/25/2010 |
| Without | 1 | 05/25/2010 |
| EXIT WOUND | 1 | 05/25/2010 |
| Driftwood | 0 | 05/24/2010 |
| Death of a Tart | 1 | 05/24/2010 |
| Mere Mortals | 2 | 05/24/2010 |
| Chocolate Love | 2 | 05/24/2010 |
| Rememberin' | 1 | 05/24/2010 |
| Fleshtones | 0 | 12/28/2009 |
| Forty-Somethi ng |
0 | 11/16/2009 |
| I Am | 0 | 11/09/2009 |
| WORDS | 0 | 11/09/2009 |
| Left-Handed Need Not Apply | 0 | 10/13/2009 |
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