Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Jun 2016 david mungoshi
Max Southwood
Drowning in a sea of disappointment
Swept away by the undercurrent
Into the depths of my own hatred
The weight of my heart
Set in stone and cast in steel

Kick me down
Complete submission
I reached for the stars as a last desperate
attempt to be part of the light

But you extinguished the sun
And you swallowed the moon
And by the time that I had finally made it
The stars had all died
I can't say I hate people…but I continuously find myself feeling disappointed by them.
david mungoshi Jun 2016
and the critic saw in my poem
what was never on my mind
taut, evocative and provocative he said
written as by a deranged maestro, the voice of decadence
my heart wept for all the things i had not said
david mungoshi Jun 2016
The old man sat before a flickering fire
The wild winds of august rose in a wail
And somewhere there was a deep moan
Like the earth fled by a painful groan

The weakening eyes swam in salty tears
The nostalgic outburst of a glorious past
And he knew 'though nobody told him
Somewhere in the distance was his apex

He knew too, that his time was done
This earth renewed itself that way
As some left, others made their debut
In time to soar then burn out, like a fallen star

This was his swan song to an absent audience:
Amble when you should, sprint while you can
And do all the things you want to do on time
The grim biological clock stays no execution

And you whose only claim to fame is your youth
You place too much faith in expendable things
Soon you too will creak, groan and moan sorely
As your body sags so does your morale sink

Old man that i am with gnarled fingers and dying eyes
I still have an inner spark that lights up my universe
And my heart tells me that when finally i take my bow
It will be to close a tale of near-misses and occasional joy

So young ones, you who are still beautiful and desirable
There's no tragedy in getting old;beauty lies under the folds
One day someone will compose a ballad in your honour
And we all shall make music of a kind in silent graveyards

Where complete strangers will wonder who we were
david mungoshi Jun 2016
sometimes we are a burning splinter
fanned into life by a passing breeze
tickled by its tales of fabulous places
sometimes we glow red then flare
into a myriad sparks and hisses
like a fire agitated and soon to roar
but soon our zest is over and done with
and only that small burning point remains aglow
such is life,like a burning splinter crackling in the night
no one remembers us, come the break of day...
david mungoshi Jun 2016
every walk that i take
every gaze up the avenues
exposes every low lie
about human progress
the glamour and the glitz
muffle the hungry cries
of bewildered no-hopers
the litter and the clutter
tell a story of decadence
and broken down values
david mungoshi Jun 2016
life could be a pure wonder
with lots of real thunder
if we all became babies again
no past,present or future
just a drooling ,dribbling life
where everything is wondrous
and we trust  everyone too; in a
haven of arrested development
then would we spend eternity
trying to decipher baby babble
and the world would be safe
Next page