Poem: Rampart

My wall took years effort, forging foundation

funding on dry papyrus leaves, for the beams are solid

on a crumbling foundation, built poorly atop

dollars active on radio, because what once was

the effect of a bomb still is, but only hold

a mercenary mangle, perched as a sentinel

stationary cellar cursing, all things burn for now

proceed forever infinity, we are destination disaster.

 

Unshaken is my dream, though the future is dark

survivor dormitories, puddle the landscape

in glowing groundwater, all things are poison

landscape of glass shards, fully dreading

nothing press forward, and at least you know

the point is coming, flipping the crisis

for the wise to platform, bulging bubble

pop and you’re free, to do what you do.

 

What is that, direction befuddle and fall

over the top two blocks, a bloody reward

for a toe trip forward, tumble into purpose

poised reflection, gold is a maybe

while purpose probably is, perhaps

a captain takes up arms like a carpenter

would be eventually, at the end is a mark

to find comfort in, the simple things.

Poem: Rampart