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Gary Beck
Lost Souls
Perish our
tomorrows
when sinned
against,
or sinning,
we sleep
fleeting days away.
This sorriest
creation
who whimpers
longings,
squanders time,
bloated
citizens
couched and
dreamy,
clots of
expectation
in danger of
waiting
until our
moment fades.
Shock
Treatment
Old poems of
love
make us dream
sweet moods,
noble thoughts,
but visions of
torment
stir our fears,
stab our hearts
with lances of
pain
that penetrate,
break off,
fester,
leaving us
deprived,
spiritually
naked.
Two Dirges
I
Allurements
We are born too
late for enchantments,
demons never
seem to tempt us here,
just crones
beckoning from embankments,
mechanically
mumbling in their fear.
II
Causality
Long before
ethics and morality
called for
universal equality,
the lust for
power and basic greed
were the main
motives of human need.
©2010 Gary Beck
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