Poetry
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The Butterfly Lament
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“The Butterfly Lament” — KWayne ?
Clouds part the heavens, and
Dappled sunlight falls.
Mankind has raped the land, but
The gods know to be kind.
Everything is relative, and
Venom poisons the flesh.
Newly metamorphosized,
The butterfly takes flight.
Rage is the language of the heart, while
All the birds sing higher.
Slithers of snakes on the land, and
Depths of greed and desperation.
Beneath a tree, a crocus grieves, and
Clouds do dangle upon.
Machines of war, production of heat..
Like the butterfly, winds flutter.
Politeness disparaged, but
Many minds do better.
Righteous are the wicked, and
Dangerous ivy grows strong.
Roots of anguish flourish, and
Trees do surely suffer.
Xanax is a cure prescribed..
And a butterfly still tries.
Industrial-strength deception.
Any chance for us now?
Killing hope slowly, while
Hope may be persistent, while
Daffodils die.
Narcolepsy of the mind, with
Competition, a god greatly enamored.
Butterflies – an exhibition of dissident beauty.
Every cloud in the sky, unique and unbroken,
Fashioning a form out of air.
Near death, and deserving exaltation,
What is the purpose of this blade of grass?
Heat of the sun, and sweltering fumes,
In forms that may be seen,
In forms of hallucinations.
Titans of nonchalance, butterflies none-the-wiser.
Rolling hills and meadows sweet
In the eye of a storm.
Rusty blades and innocence, and
Souls are hopefully redeemed.
Emissions, energy, and everything right, while
Mountaintops fall on angel wings.
Oh hey, look!.. jolly is a fox askip..
And truly free, the butterfly endures.
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