Friday, 27 January 2023

poem 199

 

We here are the Hollow men

We here are stuffed with god

We here bask under stolen crown

together too, embrace wealths cruel umbrella 

Headpiece on the wall staring so tall

Over empty voices, to see all crawl



Then calling each act, his glory

but cry hollow, easy to swallow

As the wind cries, in the grass

rats feats, upon decaying fountain head 

foundations designed unstable, inherited 



Hollow shaped charge, without colour

without regret, without humanity 

crossed and crossed 

Your death, your repressed

a golden key, to kingdom they designed

of Hollow men’s eye

of story’s made fact



Remember us, that was burned 

In there fire high, is never high enough 

Violent, but signed by god, is just, is fine

The Hollow men, draw the line

stuffed with god, its all fine



No nearer, to Hollow man promise 

as your dreams, replaced, again, by screams, by rape

The Hollow man gets his pay

on that crowning day 

A column of light broken



There a tree, swings

distant, cracked 

even a star fades 

No matter the sacrificed made

or the gross pay, made



No nearer, no nearer, no dear

yet, they still sell the Hollow man

his grey suit, lined with Greek thinkers

Again made him

Again made your stomach hollow

Again meeting to say hello 

now twisted, to hungers brow



The dead can now only live here

The dead can prick, but not bleed

The dead count no hour

The dead live iron, stone and walk alone

in any crowd



But plan all thats hollow 

with love, with passion, with a kiss

to make all swallow 

his broken word 

and become death

Where the insane 

turns the sane broken and parade

turns the sane broken and parade



Now parade made

its Hollow men made

God said feel no shame,

for the river of blood, fall 

only of human tall 

Now cleanse, colour, paper and sound

and make all hollow as you

Think nort of shadows, that fall 

or of ideas that bleed



For tomorrow, we will write history 

and its hollow

and its the hollow

that will shine

and get to dine 

At the feet of a king

can you hear the angels sing, now!









No comments:

Post a Comment