The past is...
They tell me the past is goneLeft only to your memory
And the words you etch
On the cold unhielding ground,
But I can't understand this
Way of thinking things through
Does not our history
Make for a changed future?
Can we not take hope
In all the pain we've known
To say never again
Will any other feel this
While I live and breath
And am fit to interveen
See I look at these people
And examine their lives,
The perfect family, money, love
They never had to wonder
Why daddy loved them
Just a bit to much,
Of if mum will remember
The name she gave you
After all her medication,
They didnt make the meals
Aged six and three quarters
Nor did they run a house
And set a table for three
When the only one to eat was me,
So I tell them the past
Cannot be lost and the words
I write will stay engraved
To show me what life is
Lest I forget and lose myself
To vanity and everlasting shame.
I know the value of existing
And it's not as high
As some suppose,
In fact I'd dare to say
That life and living
Are eternal foes
That a poet uses for
Contradicting evalutionary prose
Like one has meaning
With the other,
When really life is just
An absence of death
And living in understanding
Pain and standing unmoved
Humanity cut from you,
Carved from stone
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.