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Parsing time

by Laura Doom

Life is not a progression
but a procession
of pointless floats and macho bands
in moments dressed as monuments,
a grand parade of malcontents
whose cameo performances
portray the purge of isometrics;
one for sorrow, two for sex
and three for scenes that seek a crowd
corralled and cowed by cheerless leaders
spitting blood or spinning dreamers
milked of every human kindness,
blinded by this mindless food of love.

04/06/2016

Posted on 04/06/2016
Copyright © 2019 Laura Doom

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 04/07/16 at 04:27 AM

So true. I like how you put this in such stark terms.

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 04/07/16 at 03:38 PM

Loved these lines - " moments dressed as monuments", and especially "corralled and cowed by cheerless leaders". A solid graphic flow to this. I shall continue to spit back with ridiculous blooming flowers. ;)

Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 04/08/16 at 04:15 PM

its an understatement to say, this ode, is a joy beheld, which sows all its wild oats and grits its philosophical teeth to boot, the all of which clamp down and take root in me.

Posted by Rob Littler on 04/09/16 at 05:16 PM

I love the sound of this when I read it aloud, especially the crowd/cowed section...I have been reading this whole thing out loud now for a while...over and over. My only critique is that I want MORE, please, more of this...can you live in this voice for a while...

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