“So what is discord at one level of your being
is harmony at another level.”
(Alan Watts)

A short poem on the changing times and the duplicitous society.

Seeds of sun and a hypnic push,
Crisp cold air smothers the recluse;

Shadows of a mothy, but just dreamed Poe
Peep through hinges of a creaky trap door.

Back to the realm of grey and black
Cacophonous spells, and a cul-de-sac.
A multitude absorbed in crime and lust,
Amidst volumes of tea, and stained rust.

3 comments on “Discord

  1. Pingback: In Search of a Requiem | The Nomadic Soliloquist

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