I these days find it difficult
to resolve a conflict in my heart
which leads me
stand abreast the wall
and weep, so very bitterly
for Lost Jerusalem and
O, my brother in his grave.
And poetry does not
come easily these days
and I must spit this out with
alcohol and drugs
Cathartic mutterings
in a broken heart,
My world is all aflood.
Like a man within a
window-frame,
I see the sunset only
distantly;
The colours of a rainbow
only here and there,
Not joyfully;
So much is lost and far away.
in a sea of blood, and mud
O happiness of yesterday is but
Merely sunken treasure;
These days
My world is all aflood.
