OLD BONES * R.M. Engelhardt

OLD BONES

All the pessimists
Stand in line

Picking their noses
Criticizing other voices

Broken & defeated
Long long

Ago

Bored
With the
Modern world
They watch us
All from their
Thrones of sleep

And then
Once again
Turn on the TV
Looking outward
For dominating ideas

Approval.

Validation.

In the decayed
Engine of the
Great man made
Machine

Long tired & dead
In the waters of
Mere acceptance
Their sad anarchy
Now only a
Visage of teenage
Years bloated &
Tired out without
Renewal

While all the dreamers
Still dream, write sonnets
To a new world of endless
Possibilities, write poems
To a universe from a different
Place yet to be known or
Seen

As they throw the old bones
The remains of humanity
Into the void of the cosmos
Searching within their souls

For words

The voices come back
From the well of imagination

The mortal coil
Resurrected

While all the pessimists
Lay buried

In cementaries

Graves of their own
Making

Beneath the earth
Within the dirt of time

Unknown

~ R.M. Engelhardt
©2023