Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Poet's class

Lo here I sit
below a sufi fan
who whispers the hymns
those soothe
a sweating man.

Rebels electrocuted
crucified & hung
Yet within the dark
empire they stung

A silent black board
often abused at will
Most learned of them all
yet it stands still.

Thoughts hammered,punctured
And beaten black and blue
Papyrus pen their hammer
and the table their anvil

Dogmas doors and windows
guards to bumpy inroads
Dwarf chairs enslaved
to bear shifting loads

Ah yes, then there are
the learned pupils and teachers
But I am a poet
I ogle at live creatures

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