Damn you soothsayers of no avail
who pry on my dignity
and leave me with no trail,
who hawk my words
on markets and swift courts
where gossip and dead birds
refuse to fall to silent ground.
Damn you do-gooders and all you
who prance through moonless nights,
who believe that angels can’t fall
from the face of smugness and heights,
never daring to charge the old father
with history’s altar-dead body pile
and all mislead, murky molestations.
*********************
a poem by Bengt Bjorklund (cornbob), a painter and a poet from Stockholm and one of my favourite *poetic fellows* at Poetry Junction´s. Many many thanks Bengt, for allowing me to use this great write here on my Wonderland:-)
For more by Bengt, look here: www.andrasidan.nu and here: http://poetryjunction.proboards19.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile&user=cornbob
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