Old Mother,
I have been tagged by you:
You have moulded my mouth
And encased me
In your culture.
Lucky I am,
That you have "rolled forth
To fill the earth
Like a stone."

And yet the snippets
And the clumps,
And the pre-formed slabs
I find glistening
Here in this land
Of Germanic mishmash,
I too often mourn--

For it is not goodness,
It is not virtue
That radiate,
And if not rot and foolishness,
It's hideous poison
That streams and swishes about,
A foulness in the air.

I have sought
And known your treasure;
Spread it unhesitatingly
And professionally
As a legacy;

Yet Satan has made of heaven's light
The very illumination of hell.

08/05/2006

Author's Note: Young "Continental English" --Camp NICES, Nederwert, Limburg, Netherlands.

Posted on 08/05/2006
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes