Burn the pages
of all my poems
of all my dreams
of all my thoughts
burn them all;
let the flames consume them
reduce all my work to ashes
then let the Wind scatter them far far abroad,
till they are all lost
and gone and no longer mourned;
All that is left behind is the empty grave
of hope betrayed, desire abandoned, ambition thwarted;
Bereft of significance
slung with abandon onto the Pyre,
scenes from the flickering dusk
its orange and reds dance
across our implanted memory,
our specious thoughts thought by someone else
their currency forged,their lies spoken
as if they alone were truth,
but the flames only know anger
and they consume all.
A powerful,satirical,Kafkaesque piece of social criticism.One is reminded, in a way, of Ray Bradbury’s ”Fahrenheit 451.”
Great poem Louis…not a lot has changed only the uniforms