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Array ( [sid] => 4231 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => A Dying World [time] => 2002-09-24 22:00:00 [hometext] => [bodytext] => A London dawn and I'm awake
With a restless urgency to take
Myself onto the deserted streets;
The mists licking around my feet,
Inching through the alleyways in retreat;
Head down, hooded, arms folded round me;
Into my own concerns, turning
Thoughts over and over, burning
My mind with a constant yearning;
But no insight to see what there might be;
Though something tugs still at memory;
Something doesn’t quite make sense;
That pretty Lima child I can’t forget,
Selling prepubescent innocence,
For two dollars on a hillside shack
Of cardboard and old tin;
Oh, then what thoughts come back;
But will the mind take anything in
To compare with that, and yet
All thoughts inward turn back again;
Oh, how quaint my petty vanity,
To dare think that I might share
In my over privileged, cushioned life,
Some knowledge of loss and pain,
Or experience of suffering or strife;
To feel such self pity is mere profanity;
In a pitiless world that just does not care;
Just count the daily toll of babies dying;
Its Nine-Eleven each day and more;
While politicians I trusted now are just lying,
As my government plans for an unjust war;
In the morning cold, with arms around me curled,
Holding back the tears, tears for a dying world.
[comments] => 1 [counter] => 237 [topic] => 6 [informant] => melis [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => AngryPoetry )

A Dying World

Contributed by melis on Tuesday, 24th September 2002 @ 10:00:00 PM in AEST
Topic: AngryPoetry

A London dawn and I'm awake
With a restless urgency to take
Myself onto the deserted streets;
The mists licking around my feet,
Inching through the alleyways in retreat;
Head down, hooded, arms folded round me;
Into my own concerns, turning
Thoughts over and over, burning
My mind with a constant yearning;
But no insight to see what there might be;
Though something tugs still at memory;
Something doesn’t quite make sense;
That pretty Lima child I can’t forget,
Selling prepubescent innocence,
For two dollars on a hillside shack
Of cardboard and old tin;
Oh, then what thoughts come back;
But will the mind take anything in
To compare with that, and yet
All thoughts inward turn back again;
Oh, how quaint my petty vanity,
To dare think that I might share
In my over privileged, cushioned life,
Some knowledge of loss and pain,
Or experience of suffering or strife;
To feel such self pity is mere profanity;
In a pitiless world that just does not care;
Just count the daily toll of babies dying;
Its Nine-Eleven each day and more;
While politicians I trusted now are just lying,
As my government plans for an unjust war;
In the morning cold, with arms around me curled,
Holding back the tears, tears for a dying world.

Copyright Â© melis ... [ 2002-09-24 22:00:00]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: A Dying World (User Rating: 1 )
by Jackee_line on Wednesday, 23rd April 2003 @ 07:38:04 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Your poem rings so true,unfortunatly it seems that everyone has their eyes closed.
Great poem, and a fine write.

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