Reaching Through Machines

I stand
abused and afraid
in this recurring Van Gogh nightmare

I carry this
fragment of Mt. Olympus
in my pocket over my heart
and it is heavy
so heavy

I push the day
up a Picasso dream mountain
The American deification
A land where money grows on trees
and children die at home

I stand disturbed
in this blood red sunset
reaching though machines
for the angel


Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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