Poem: Regression

(For National Poetry Month I am writing a stream-of-conscious poem per day. Each poem is  a spontaneous poem single edit – could get messy!  Here is Poem #20.

down they forgot
all that they knew
each generation

leaving behind
simple good times
to work like they could
to hoard what they would

mad happy squirrels
frantic caching

up they did grow
followed the plan
ticked all the boxes
bowed to the bosses

and in the end?
what did it mean?
none of it mattered
look how it shattered

time is our friend
when we are small
revealing sweet dreams
or so it just seems

time is so cruel
plays us for fools
laughs as the sand ends
burying us beneath.

burying us
obscuring us
we walk different lives
that all end the same…


One response

  1. […] A Poem is born in the Brushing Sparks of the Confounded and Devoured like an Easter feast consumed Faster as we Ghastly reform withdraw to bed by Eight fearing this Heartless Infinity before us I the Joker ever dueling the Knight nightly seeking Lovers and Magic long lost at 16 exiled by the Ostracized forbidden Priestess embedded with the Queen of Regression […]


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