Tag Archives: losing hope

Eternal Recurrence

 

Joan of Arc, with her blonde pixie cut

and slim frame, in t-shirt, leggings,

walks down a modern Paris street.

She is cold, as the sun fades,

as the day ends, as the season changes,

and all seems to want to die.

Her Lord’s Enemy Nietzsche talked

of eternal recurrence, and, damn, goddamn,

if it does seem like that’s so now.

A young couple, both Joan’s age,

walk hand in hand down the street,

the girl’s head on the boy’s shoulder.

They are tender, sweet, still innocent.

Joan knows the boy will be killed in the war.

Joan knows the girl will be never fall in love after.

Rich men, cruel men, who speak of holiness,

crush the dreams of children, of the world,

and so many faithful cheer them on.

Joan sits by the Seine, as night is here,

and she needs rest, as her, the angels,

all the Children of God fight a battle that feels lost.

Why have they fought so long, so hard?

History repeats itself bitterly, endlessly.

People when not embrace the Godly Shard in them.

Ghosts of her friends, of her comrades,

of God’s now passed children, are close,

but not as close as the fires being kindled by greed.

 

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A Place of Dark Magic

November.

Hair blue as her eyes.

Weight of her.

Soft, fluffy parka.

Vespa ride to the park.

Skeletal trees.

Cold, clear creek.

Roar on the overpass.

We smoke cigarettes.

We drink wine.

She shivers.

She pulls her jacket tight.

Night is falling. Stars come.

Wine is poor man’s infatuation.

Cigarettes are bitter almonds.

We sit in swings.

We talk of paradise.

I miss the weight of her.

I wish we could ride to paradise.

Or a place of dark magic.

I drop her off.

We hug. We shiver. We hope.

November may stay this year.

Hope a pimped out whore.

Hope may beat it all yet.