S M O K E & M I R R O R S
Dear Poet,
Please do tell us,
Do say. SPEAK
Of what is “Human”?
Shakespeare
Writing writing writing
Again & again
About love &
Betrayal.
And Mr. Blake,
Always writing
About all those winged angels above
Whilst Lucifer
Sits alone in his
Basement still sulking over
His big breakup
With God.
To be
Or not to be
Love, love me do,
Do you still love me?
Are we through
Etc etc etc.
Etc….”Blah.
But the real, the same question
Still and always remains.
What is love?
What does it mean?
And is it ever enough?
Ever?
For the sirens
Are still all singing upon
the shores,
And the muses are all still
Dancing upon
The waves
Of Humanity
To inspire.
The next.
The last.
The true.
The dead.
So is this what it
Is to be? Or not to
Be? Exist or to not exist at all
As the universe merely spins away.
To feel
With consequence
Or hate?
But my dear poet;
God or savior
It all forever stays the same.
As you light up another cigarette
And slowly exhale the smoke
Into the dark night
Like words.
For it’s all done
With smoke & mirrors
_____________
R.M. Engelhardt 2011