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Mar 2014
Tsk tsk tossed
go out
Your suggestions.

Whisk whisk washed
flow south
Your directions.

Hiss hiss sorry
no time for
sage reflections.

Songs you sang will not be sung
Nor any tales of strength believed.

The brain embodied in such young
Must think it he first to perceive.

Ask every man
Who first made sparks?
From rocks to barks?
Blinding night and fooling fear?

Wholly gone ghost
Our first bright creature
He harnessed fire
Then disappeared.


Realizations when thought anew
Seem to skip from us awry.

So no Salutes
nor an ovation
For those who fostered
Us will be spied.

Gods truth your lips bespoke to youth
Yet still it's not their time to hear.
For these ears are full of magic
And your end rolls
Crushing near.
Lightbulb Martin
Written by
Lightbulb Martin  Right on the cusp
(Right on the cusp)   
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