Free Me From License
We must shed our illusions
Syllabic Poem| The Culminating 30
Please
free me
from
license
to live life
only
on my terms,
giving my will
its wanton
omnipotence,
full liberated,
irrespective
of its consequence.
With no one to answer,
good or mal intent
now deemed irrelevant,
The Truth falls to the dustbins
of ancient history.
When the narcissist can run
right through anyone in his way,
and “good” men of proud conscience
choose to step aside, become prey.
They feed his voracious gluttony,
this unfettered hunger and thirst
for pride and power and distinction.
There is no point to reach that satiates
fire that burns, though it never is quenched.
There is no time when we will become great.
We hesitate to shed the mass illusion,
and are complicit in our extinction.
A Brand New Syllabic Form
Monthly Prompt №6: September — the “culminating 30”medium.com
Michael Hall
“Syllabic Poetry — the Culminating 30”
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