Litkicks Message Board Archive

To the Mother, with love from nature

Posted to Poetry




Rot, in the brick walls
It has been so many years I can’t remember when
The sun shined brilliant bright breathing in the dawn’s day tirade
The flowers flowed in the wind that washed over the land
I remember the fields infinite out stretching past the horizon
Running through the fine flowers and tall grass with bare feet
I was untouched by the world trying to reach the horizon
I knew at the end there would be a waterfall
The serene sounds of forest flowers filling across water ways
A pool of bright blue water that has existed only for me to grace it
I remember the dream, of freedom, of water running off rocks
But back to brick walls that stare me in eyes every entrapped minute
They taunt me “what happened to you?” they ask
I can no longer see that horizon and it breaks me
Bleed broken bent and beat there I lie to be lied to
I know that this end will be a block of more brick put there by some momentous prick
So my sad sullen dreams are laid in some solid masonry locked in life less solitude
Then further down the horizon will be another set of bricks called home set in the suburbs
The suburban sun only shines when it is at a convenient time
Subterraneous shadowing my shallow desires of being free from the frigid air of reality
Consuming myself in contempt of the corporate creatures crawling within the whore world
I would think about the water fall and if it has run dry
Remembering the relief of running water warm on my soft skin
Knowing that the bare foot brigade to the end of vision would not lead me to menial work
Now the sun leads to trivial tasks wrought on my by some man not much more than a monkey
Paid by public schools to preach political correct policies of the pigs at the head
Or corporate lackeys lacking the leisure of lethargic dreams long gone
Bricks, I rather rot than face the façade of fucking reality