deepundergroundpoetry.com
Clock Hands and Calendars
A minute of silence to remember the act:
an eggshell gesture, quaint but empty.
Counting to sixty, practicing introspective faces,
while the only people who really care
already felt it every day of the year.
I hear we were horrified when JFK died.
an eggshell gesture, quaint but empty.
Counting to sixty, practicing introspective faces,
while the only people who really care
already felt it every day of the year.
I hear we were horrified when JFK died.
Published 11th Sep 2011
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 4
reading list entries 0
comments 6
reads 799
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
Anonymous
11th Sep 2011 9:04am
Though I know what inspired this I love how it could apply to any tragedy. Both World Wars, Vietnam, high school shootings etc. There is a wonderful clarity here which surpasses and mocks grotesque eulogising preached by the unaffected. The last line is a killer.
11th Sep 2011 8:16pm
Thanks. My usual disdain for all politicians and other assorted loudmouthed soundbite-obsessed asses comes out in spades this time of year.
13th Sep 2011 2:30am
I strongly dislike this time of year. Politicians, with their sad faces saying their sad words with a straight face and a normal-weighted heart. I'm still in school, so each teacher tells their own little theory of what happened. I'd rather just stay out of it, what happened happened, and I will mourn the dead like I did ten years ago, but to reinforce the unknown with such supremacy- I've had enough.
13th Sep 2011 3:53am
"but to reinforce the unknown with such supremacy- I've had enough" - can't be said much better than that.
16th Sep 2011 6:55pm
17th Sep 2011 00:39am
