clcouch123

(x = space)

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Epoch

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We have war

We have pandemic

We shoot each other

And we shoot

Our children

Children shooting

Children, too

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These are the facts

When we believed

Ourselves good

In gray

And black and white

Were such

Things happening

As well?

Maybe

Maybe so

We did our best

To hide the war

In Korea

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And our children

Were growing smart

Naturally asking

Questions

Our parents did not know

How to answer

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Things began

To fall apart

The marriage rate

Fashions

Belief in government

And other agencies

Belief in church

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Discovered were

All kinds of prisoners

Who wanted

To be free

It was a white world

It had to be injected

With more color

With more style

With more freedom

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The war ended

Followed by

A worse one

We killed our youth

Did not fight well

And lost

The victories in the ‘80s

Took on an absurd

Significance

We conquered Grenada

The UK kept the

Falklands from

The mainland nation

We hid

From ourselves

What the CIA was doing

We were supposed

To believe

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Not that the Soviets

Fared better

They lost in Afghanistan

And later

Lost the wall

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So here we are

Not born

To be kings, as Queen

Asserts for

Highlanders

We’re simply here

And want our lives

And in relationships

And to trust our

Communities enough

Some buy guns

Or drugs

To have it so

Some lead hidden lives

That in the light

Of day could cope

Though illumination’s

Out of fashion

Left in the scriptoria

Of centuries ago

Or kept in colonies

In eastern Asia

Southern Asia

And there are monastics

Here and there

Not nearly so many

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Secretly,

We praise our obfuscation

Slaps on the backs

For leadership

That will not abrogate

No way

Volunteer

Self-funded terms

Term-limited

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And what is hidden

Behind doors

And what if the

Angels

Were assigned

To take all the doors

Away?

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There is a planet

Though we

Melt the ice

Suffer in greater heat

Wondering what

Happened

To the media

Our hilltops long ago

Surrendered trees

To acid rain

Well, at least

Not so many

Rivers catch on fire

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There is our place

In the cosmos,

The physicality

Social arrangements

Away from here

And maybe

On the way

Can you imagine?

What will we say

Our part has been

With regard

To respectability

Of suns and planets

And our

Sibling people?

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Well, we’ll have to answer

Otherwise

Gort might have its way

Though if the visitors

Go unreined

Then we’ll have

New problems

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We have a chance

It’s not last call

I’m not sure

Who calls that

In layers or in rounds

We might still

Have a say in that

But we’ll have to

Behave

Restrain and moderate

Practice then employ

The love we could have

For each other

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C L Couch

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Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

I used a cut-open plastic bottle to pour the paint.  First black, then the cold, then the warm 🙂

[note by P. C.]

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